


Blue Rendezvous

by beepbeepsan



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: ATLA Big Bang, ATLA Big Bang 2020, Animal Death, Ba Sing Se, Big Brother Sokka (Avatar), Bigotry & Prejudice, Blood and Injury, Blue Spirit Zuko (Avatar), Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s02e17 Lake Laogai, Holding Hands, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Lake Laogai (Avatar), POV Sokka (Avatar), POV Zuko (Avatar), Possibly Pre-Slash, Sokka is a genius dumbass, Swearing, Zuko Joins The Gaang Early (Avatar), Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, they/them pronouns, zukka if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27256540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepbeepsan/pseuds/beepbeepsan
Summary: “...you really aren’t going to talk, are you.Canyou talk?” Sokka asks, peering intently at the mask. “Wait, sorry, that’s insensitive of me.”This time it’s Zuko who gives a snort. Belatedly, he claps a hand to the mouth of his mask, like an idiot.When Zuko frees Appa from the Dai Li, he’s forced to flee Ba Sing Se along with Sokka. Separated from Iroh and the Gaang, the two boys end up camping together while waiting for the dust to settle.The catch? Zuko is still disguised as the Blue Spirit, and Sokka wants to be his friend.
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 746
Kudos: 1396
Collections: ATLA Big Bang 2020, Finished111, Quality Fics, RaeLynn's Epic Rec List, escapism (to forget that the world is a burning hellscape)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my submission for the ATLA Big Bang 2020! My first big bang and first time working with betas—thank you so much to the amazing [Wheat](https://burnt-oranges.tumblr.com/), [Aeru](https://aerugonian.tumblr.com/), and [Rowan](https://acornsofthemind.tumblr.com/), this story is so much better thanks to your hard work! 
> 
> This fic primarily involves Sokka and Zuko bonding (can be read as pre-slash Zukka, if you like), Sokka being protective and a dork, and Zuko being conflicted and socially awkward. And Appa! Details on tags/warnings are in the end notes for this chapter. 
> 
> This is by far the longest fic I’ve ever written; I’d originally estimated it to be maybe 15k tops, and now here we are at 60k. I will be posting 1 chapter a day for 20 days - hope you like it!
> 
> [duck-is-duck](https://duck-is-duck.tumblr.com/) on tumblr

Ba Sing Se just keeps getting creepier. The whole situation with their excessively cheerful and unhelpful guide Joo Dee was weird enough—first she won’t let them out of her sight and then she suddenly disappears for a “vacation”? And their temporary minder was also named Joo Dee and acted exactly the same? 

And now Jet doesn’t remember getting arrested by the Dai Li. Plus,  _ he’s _ being weirdly cheerful, too, for someone who was left frozen to a tree last time their paths crossed. 

Sokka is seeing a pattern. A creepy, far-fetched, crazy pattern: brainwashing. 

It’s the best explanation he has for the strange behavior, and it also explains why Toph says both Jet and Smellerbee are telling the truth despite giving wildly conflicting stories. So when Jet begins describing a headquarters under the water, Sokka immediately ties it back to what Joo Dee had told them. 

“Wait!” he exclaims. “Remember what Joo Dee said? She said she went on vacation to Lake Laogai!” 

Jet bolts up from his stool. “That’s it!” He repeats it slowly, something like dread in his voice: “Lake Laogai.” 

“Then that’s where we’ll go,” Aang says without hesitation. Their fruitless search for Appa has steadily increased Aang’s recklessness, to Sokka’s dismay, but this time he’s right. Maybe Appa won’t be there, but Lake Laogai should at least have some answers. 

“I need to talk to you guys first. Alone,” Sokka says, making eye contact with Aang and Katara. “Uh, you too, Toph.” Leaving Jet, Smellerbee, and Longshot in the room, the group huddles in the hallway. 

“What is it, Sokka?” Katara asks. 

“We need to make a plan.” 

Aang groans. “Not another plan. I want to go  _ now _ ! Appa is going to be there, I can feel it!” 

Sokka grabs Aang’s shoulder to stop him from bouncing in place. “Aang, we’re going to get Appa back soon. But this is a Dai Li secret hideout we’re talking about.” He glances around the hall for eavesdroppers, keeping his voice lowered. “We need to be prepared for things to go wrong.” 

“Like what?” Toph asks with an innocence that doesn’t suit her. 

“Just—bad stuff, okay?” Sokka says, exasperated. “Listen, I just think we need to agree on a rendezvous point.” 

“Okay, I guess that is a good plan,” Aang concedes. “Where should we meet?” 

“Well, we could meet back up at the house,” Katara suggests. Then she frowns. “But I guess that doesn’t work if we’re running from the Dai Li.” 

“Or if we all get brainwashed,” Toph puts in. 

The group shivers a little. 

“Okay, ignoring that,” Sokka says, “I was thinking somewhere outside the city. But we probably shouldn’t pick anywhere obvious. So… nowhere we’ve been before.” He taps a finger against his chin. 

“Oh, I know! Do you have a map?” Aang says. 

He takes the map that Sokka pulls from his shirt and unrolls it on the floor. Katara and Sokka crouch down with him. 

“Right here is a good spot,” Aang chirps, pointing to an unmarked area southeast of Ba Sing Se. “I  _ have _ been here before, but it was a long time ago, so I don’t think anyone will think of it.” 

“What’s there?” Katara asks. She gets an excited grin in return. 

“Hopping llamas!” 

There’s a pause. 

“So, does anyone want to tell me where this place is?” Toph drawls, still standing. 

“Oh, right,” Katara says. “Toph, can you get me a few pebbles?” 

“Coming right up, Sweetness.” Toph wiggles her fingers and catches some small rocks that come arcing through a nearby window. She hands them over. 

Katara starts placing pebbles on the map. “Come down here, Toph.” She takes Toph’s hand, ignoring her start of surprise, and directs her fingers to each pebble in turn. “This is the center of Ba Sing Se, and here’s Lake Laogai. Back here to the southwest is the Serpent’s Pass where we came in. And then over here to the southeast is Chameleon Bay, and the… llamas… are further down the shore, right over here. Does that help?” 

“Yeah,” Toph says, habitual smirk back in place, “but you know you could’ve just put the pebbles down while naming the locations? I  _ can _ feel them.  _ Without _ my hands.” 

Flustered, Katara flushes and drops Toph’s hand. “Fine, whatever. Just make sure you know where the rendezvous point is.” 

“Alright, glad that’s settled,” Sokka says, shaking pebbles off his map and tucking it back into place. “So if we get separated and it’s not safe to stay here, head there and lay low.” 

“Got it.  _ Now _ can we go?” Aang bounces in place, energized but restraining himself from dashing off alone. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Sokka pokes his head back into the other room. “Jet? You’re coming with us.” No need to let a brainwashed loose cannon run around. 

Smellerbee crosses her arms and glares. “We’re coming, too. No buts.” 

“Fine with me.” Sokka shrugs and jerks a thumb in Jet’s direction. “As long as you keep  _ him _ in line.” 

He leaves to the sound of Jet sputtering behind him. 

* * *

Zuko’s mind is spinning as he enters the apartment he shares with Uncle. “The Avatar is here in Ba Sing Se,” he says flatly, handing Uncle the flier he’d found, “and he’s lost his bison.” 

Uncle pauses his packing, the excitement over opening his own tea shop draining from his face. Guilt creeps in, but Zuko’s too worked up to let the topic go. The Avatar. Here. In Ba Sing Se. Without his usual escape route. 

“We have a chance for a new life here,” Uncle says, as though Zuko has forgotten, as though he doesn’t remind himself every morning to be grateful. “If you start stirring up trouble, we could lose all the good things that are happening for us.” 

Despite his best efforts, his frustration bubbles over. “Good things that are happening for  _ you _ !” Zuko retorts. “Have you ever thought that I want more from life than a nice apartment and a job serving tea?” 

“There is nothing wrong with a life of peace and prosperity. I suggest you think about what it is that you want from your life and why.” 

“I want my destiny,” he says immediately. This life—working a service job, hiding his bending, giving up his birthright—can’t be it. There must be something more. 

“What that means is up to you,” Uncle tells him. He’s probably hoping Zuko will decide his destiny does, in fact, mean serving tea for the rest of his days. 

Zuko walks away. This conversation is going nowhere; Uncle will continue to give him vague advice and no real answers, and Zuko will just get more frustrated until he really blows up. And he’s done enough yelling at Uncle. 

Uncle doesn’t get it. All he wants to discuss is names for his new tea shop. 

But Zuko isn’t satisfied, couldn’t care less about moving to the upper ring. He’s struggling to feel content with his new life. His ordinary, humble, insignificant life. His perfectly peaceful (besides the disaster that had been Jet), sheltered, decisionless life. 

And yet, he knows he should be grateful. He knows he’d been lucky, for once in his life, to end up here. Uncle is so excited for his new shop, so happy to spend all day making tea and chatting with customers. 

Zuko shouldn’t ruin this for him. Shouldn’t miss the years spent sailing the unforgiving seas with a disgruntled crew and an impossible _important_ mission. Shouldn’t long for home, for the Fire Nation, for palace life, for his mother. Shouldn’t hope for anything better than what he has. 

But he does. 

Zuko flops down onto his bedroll and stares at the ceiling. He’s been doing a lot of that lately, breathing deeply to try calming his restlessness without firebending. Agni, but he misses firebending. It’s almost physically painful, having to hide it constantly. 

Hiding here in Ba Sing Se, pretending to be just another Earth Kingdom refugee—it doesn’t just feel cowardly; it feels  _ wrong _ . 

“I am Zuko,” he whispers to himself. Another recent habit. Some days he worries that his false identity will consume him, that he’ll wake up one day unable to feel the sun, that Zuko will fade away until there is only Lee. 

Sure, life as Lee is simpler. Life as Fire Nation Crown Prince Zuko had been… complicated, lately. And now Uncle is saying he can determine his own destiny. 

Yeah, right. 

Zuko scowls, rolling onto his bad side to bury his scar in his pillow. Even if he really could choose, having choices is nearly as bad as having none. It feels like Zuko only gets to make huge, life-changing decisions that could ultimately affect the fate of the world, and honestly, he’s kind of tired of it. What would he choose, anyway? 

Have Zuko’s eyes been opened to the horrific reality of the war since being banished from his homeland? Yes. Has he realized that the Avatar is just a boy with stupid, childish,  _ hopeful  _ ideas for what the world could be like? Yes. Did he flee Fire Nation custody, wander starving and aimless around the Earth Kingdom, and nurse his gravely wounded Uncle back to health—all courtesy of his lying sister? Yes, yes, and yes. 

Has he figured out what he wants from life and why? No. Definitely not. 

So Zuko lies in bed, trying not to think anymore. He listens to his uncle mumble more tea shop names to himself in the other room. 

Eventually, after Uncle goes to bed, he gets up. He can’t sleep in this agitated state. He can’t sleep much at all, anymore. 

Not sure why he’s doing it, Zuko pries up a loose floorboard and pulls out the Blue Spirit mask. He holds it in his hands, feeling the smooth wood against his fingertips, staring into its soulless eyes. He doesn’t make a decision, not really. He just—acts. 

Not a single tangible thought crosses his mind as he sets the mask down on the floor. As he undresses, then redresses in dark clothing unlike anything he wears in public. As he pulls a hood over his head and ties the mask in place. As he straps his swords to his back and climbs out the window. 

He’s familiar enough with Ba Sing Se by now to know the prime suspect for the bison’s imprisonment. If he stops to think about it, he might not go through with it—so he just doesn’t think about it. 

Finding a lone Dai Li agent is easy. Setting up a trap and baiting him into it is even easier. Swords against the agent’s throat, Zuko extracts the secret hideout location and promptly knocks the man unconscious. He ties him up and leaves him securely tucked behind a pile of heavy barrels to be found sometime in the daylight. 

He moves like a shadow in the night, flitting through the streets and slipping over rooftops. Locating Lake Laogai by mechanically following the Dai Li agent’s directions, he finds a hiding place and sits back to wait for an opening. 

It’s there, crouched behind a lakeside boulder, ears tuned for approaching footsteps, that Zuko starts thinking again. He wishes he could have staved it off for a while longer. 

_ What in Agni’s name are you doing?!  _ One thought hisses at him.  _ You’re ruining everything Uncle earned, all his hopes for starting over!  _

_ Are you seriously breaking into the secret hideout of the very organization you’re trying to avoid?  _ Another thought sputters, trying to reason with him.  _ The agency that would kill or imprison you the moment you drew their suspicion? Do you  _ want  _ to die?!  _

Zuko grits his teeth and tries not to listen. He’s here; he’s doing this. 

_ But what about the aftermath? You have to deal with the consequences of your choices.  _ The voice of reason again—it’s present much more frequently than Uncle might believe, though often ignored. 

He takes deep, slow breaths. He must stay concentrated. Letting the Dai Li get the drop on him now would be game over. 

_ So you’re going to find the bison, and then what? Use it as bait? Free it?  _ Zuko flinches in anticipation of the next question, already knowing where this is going; it’s the same question that’s been haunting him for a long time. 

_ How do you know if you’re doing the right thing?  _

He still doesn’t have an answer. 

He wishes right and wrong weren’t so complicated. He used to think that the war was Right. That it was a campaign to share Knowledge and Prosperity with the world. That it was Justified. 

Now, having witnessed the cruel, even sadistic behavior of some Fire Nation officers; having seen devastation and fear soaking deep into the earth everywhere he goes; having interacted with—having  _ been _ —a poor, starving refugee fleeing the war… Now, Zuko has Doubts. Having any doubt at all feels so treasonous that it deserves a capital letter and capital punishment. 

He’s not sure what the right thing is anymore. And as miserable and lonely as he was in the first years of his banishment, mired in shame and hopelessness and desperation, he almost wants it back. Wants the  _ simplicity  _ back. The single, clearly defined goal that would make right everything that had gone so wrong. 

Zuko holds back a frustrated growl, shaking his head hard.  _ If  _ he gets into the Dai Li headquarters;  _ if  _ he finds the Avatar’s bison;  _ if  _ he survives this— _ then _ he can figure it out. There’s no point in planning very far ahead when you don’t expect to make it very far. Improvisation is Zuko’s way of life; he’s never been very good at determining which way the wind is blowing. 

A soft crunching sound catches his full attention. Unhurried footsteps approach. Sounds like two people, maybe a standard patrol. He flexes his toes, checking that his feet aren’t asleep, and prepares to move. If he’s quiet enough and has a bit of luck on his side, they won’t notice him slipping into the headquarters behind them. 

And from there… well. He’ll figure it out later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More details on the tags/warnings: 
> 
> There will be a serious injury in this fic. I will add a warning note to the start of the chapter(s) in which it happens and a summary at the end for if you want to skip it, but the injury will continue to be mentioned and relevant afterwards. 
> 
> I’m playing it safe with the Animal Death tag; basically, Sokka goes hunting for food and there’s a brief mention of him killing and cooking animals. 
> 
> This fic addresses and expands on canon-typical bigotry and colonialism, as well as gender identity. The former is mostly descriptions of propaganda and the Fire Nation’s sense of superiority. For the latter, given that the Fire Nation canonically banned same-sex marriage during the war, I thought socially acceptable ideas of sex and gender would also be restrictive; to put it plainly, Zuko grew up thinking babies are born either male or female and they are either men or women forever (to be clear: I disagree). But Sokka comes from a different perspective, and that results in some confusion, misunderstandings, and discussions about gender identity and pronouns. Just a heads up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gaang infiltrates Lake Laogai, and the Freedom Fighters lose someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today! Longer one tomorrow. :)

Standing on the shore of Lake Laogai, Toph locates an underwater pathway and raises it without a problem. This is definitely looking like a hideout for the Dai Li. 

They all climb down the ladder with only some minor difficulties (Toph insists she can do it herself, but she kicks Sokka in the face at least three times on the way down). No one confronts them at the bottom; no locked gates or doors bar the way. 

The lack of opposition puts Sokka even more on alert. He’s hyper-aware that they have just entered a base meant to be secret to the Dai Li, and he’s coming to realize that he may have underestimated the seriousness of their control over Ba Sing Se—as well as their overall threat to the Avatar and his friends. 

Sokka shivers when they come across a room of Joo Dee trainees. He had barely come to terms with the fact that the Dai Li are performing some sort of brainwashing; it’s another thing entirely to see it happening in real time. The blank faces and empty voices of the women in that chamber are truly horrifying. 

He briefly thinks of their own Joo Dee; she’d been pleasant enough, if overbearingly protective and formal. And she had been sent away because of them. She said she’d gone to Lake Laogai for a vacation. How many of the women standing in this room now would later claim the same thing? 

Sokka forces his mind back on track as they all pass the Joo Dees without pause. There isn’t time to save everyone. The thought tears at Sokka’s heart, even as he keeps creeping down the corridor. 

He’s almost glad when Jet leads them into a trap—knowingly or not, Sokka doesn’t care—because combat is simple. Combat requires a different kind of thinking that doesn’t typically involve moral quandaries or guilt. 

Unfortunately, he finds himself to be little help against the precise and ruthless Dai Li. “Get em, Toph!” he yells unnecessarily as she ignores him and does exactly that. 

When the dust clears (literally), Long Feng is gone. Sokka takes a quick inventory of the various groaning and silent men lying around the chamber, but he can’t find the Dai Li mastermind—or Jet. Or  _ Aang _ . Uh oh. 

* * *

What happens next is one of those nightmare moments. Like watching Yue’s form fade out of mortal existence, or seeing the grief-stricken look on his dad’s face at the end of the raid, or standing at the edge of home staring at the last of the village’s men sailing away. Moments that Sokka’s brain tucks away carefully in excruciating detail and pulls out later when he’s not prepared to look at them. 

In retrospect, he’s not sure why this one sticks with him. He doesn’t like Jet. He never really liked Jet, though he did admittedly harbor some admiration for the older boy before witnessing his treatment of that one elderly civilian. 

But when they rush into the cavern and find him on the floor, unable to move, Sokka suddenly finds that his dislike isn’t all that important. 

Staring down at the pain Jet is unable to keep from his face, Sokka remembers how Jet had tried to kill a whole village of people. He had fought Aang and Katara. And despite Smellerbee and Longshot’s claims that they were in Ba Sing Se to start over, Jet had apparently attacked innocent citizens (supposed firebenders—as if the Dai Li wouldn’t have already uncovered a Fire Nation infiltration), ultimately leading to his arrest and  _ reconditioning _ . 

So, no, Sokka doesn’t like Jet. But he thinks he can  _ understand  _ Jet, a bit. As much as Katara is the spitfire of the siblings, Sokka does know the anger that so easily boils up and spills over (and just as quickly cools off) from his sister. His is just more of a simmer in the background: always there, quietly bubbling away, something he needs to keep an eye on but can mostly just let be. 

A deep grief, a righteous fury, a need for justice, Sokka understands. Revenge… not as much. 

Katara’s not usually one for revenge, either. Despite how angry she had been with Jet, she falls to his side without hesitation, pulling water to her hands. The glow of the healing water lights Jet’s face better than the eerie green glow of the crystals, and Sokka can see the lines of tension around his eyes. 

“This isn’t good,” Katara says, her voice low as she lets the water seep away all too soon. 

“You guys go and find Appa,” Smellerbee tells them calmly. “We’ll take care of Jet.” 

What are they going to do? How could they help him if Katara can’t? 

“We’re not going to leave you,” Katara protests, clearly thinking the same thing. Even though she gave up on the healing, she’s clinging to some semblance of her usual optimism. 

They’re all startled out of arguing when Longshot speaks for the first time. “There’s no time. Just go,” he says. His voice is smooth and unrushed, as though he’s talking about something inconsequential. Or something inevitable. “We’ll take care of him. He’s our leader.” 

The quiet, unbending loyalty of that statement strikes Sokka hard. These kids care about Jet, have stuck by his side through everything and won’t leave him now. 

Maybe if things had been a little different, it could have been Sokka leading a team of children to wipe out a whole village just to get to some Fire Nation soldiers. Given what Sokka knows of the bumble fly effect, any number of small catalysts could have shaped Jet into a well-intentioned but destructive vigilante, and Sokka isn’t too proud to admit that it could have been him. But he’d had a family and a tribe to support him past the murder of his mother, and he had had the responsibility of staying behind to protect the remnants of his people as best as a young boy could. Jet had stepped up to lead a new tribe of orphans starting with nothing. 

As Jet tells Katara not to worry, Sokka has the odd feeling that he’s looking into a pool of deep, restless water, recognizing only a tiny part of himself in the reflection. 

“I’ll be fine,” Jet says from his prone position, forcing a small smile onto his face. There’s a tense, shocked feeling in the air. Smellerbee is crying. It feels so wrong. 

But they walk away. Sokka numbly accepts the Freedom Fighters’ decision and trudges with his friends across the chamber, feeling like he’s already dreaming. His heart breaks a little at the hollow tone of Toph’s voice when she says to him quietly, “He’s lying.” 

Sokka turns back to see Longshot notch an arrow and face the way they came in. Like it’s his last stand. 

_ Get a hold of yourself _ , Sokka tells himself savagely.  _ Now is not the time _ . 

Toph shuts the earthen door behind them gently, but it feels like a tolling bell. Sokka takes a deep breath and tries to shut off the swirl of emotions. The group needs him. 

Katara looks shell-shocked, her hands shaking slightly at her sides. Toph is wide-eyed and quiet. Aang, surprisingly, looks the calmest. Sokka would have expected him to be more bothered. Maybe Aang wasn’t as sheltered as he seemed. Maybe he has experience with severe injuries. Really severe injuries. Injuries that are beyond Katara’s ability to heal. Injuries that no one could possibly… 

Sokka shakes his head to clear it. Focus on the mission. Think now; feel later. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Appa is found! But the Dai Li won't let up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to get out of Lake Laogai, folks. 
> 
> * * *
> 
> [Talk to me on Tumblr!](https://duck-is-duck.tumblr.com/)

“Okay.” Sokka draws himself up and takes charge, deliberately not addressing the scene they had just left behind. “Let’s split up to find Appa. This place is too big.” 

He points at Toph and Aang with both hands. “Each group needs an earthbender in case they run into more Dai Li or there’s an earth-locked door or something. Toph and Katara; Aang and me. And don’t forget the rendezvous point we talked about.” 

“Wait, why does  _ Toph _ get to go with Katara?” Aang asks grumpily. The complaint feels a little over-the-top to be totally genuine. 

Katara shoots him a half-hearted smile that dies a quick death. Just like—

Sokka throws his arms in the air. “It was an arbitrary decision!” he whisper-yells. He finds it easy to pull on the role of comic relief, hoping it will serve as a distraction. 

“You can go with Sweetness, Twinkletoes,” Toph decides. “ _ I’ll  _ go with Sokka. Now let’s move, people!” She thrusts her fists out behind her, and suddenly the ground beneath her and Sokka starts to move. 

“Good luuuuuuuuck!” Aang’s voice quickly fades behind them as they hurtle down a corridor. 

“Sheesh, a little warning next time?” Sokka grumbles, waving his arms to keep his balance. Huh, kind of like ice surfing. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” It’s a typical line coming from Toph, but it falls flat with her monotone delivery. 

Sokka refrains from arguing; usually they’d trade quips for a while, but he doesn’t think either of them really want to right now. He squints his eyes against the Toph-generated headwind and tries to peer into open doorways as they pass. “Toph, I can’t see when we’re going this fast,” he hisses. 

“Oh, no!” she says mockingly. But she doesn’t follow it up with more sarcasm like she usually would have. “Luckily for us,  _ I  _ can see just fine at this speed. I’ll know a big, furry bison when I feel one.” 

It’s hard to tell with the eerie green light, but Sokka thinks she looks even paler than usual. She looks her age. He wants to check in and see if she’s okay—but of course she isn’t, and she probably wouldn’t want to talk about it anyway. And they can’t afford the time. 

He sends her a silent apology and promises to bug her into talking later. “Oh yeah,” he responds belatedly. “That’s convenient.” 

As they approach an intersection, two Dai Li agents jump down from the dark ceiling, blocking the way. The men earthbend in unison, forcing up a thick wall that ends just below their eye level. Their gazes are locked on Toph, dismissing Sokka entirely, to his annoyance. 

Toph curses— _ wow, she didn’t learn that one from me _ —and immediately slows their earth platform to a halt so they don’t ram into the wall and go flying. She pushes out her hands and the wall shifts backward slightly, but the agents quickly mirror her and shove it back again. 

As Toph engages in a battle of wills (in what, to Sokka, looks kind of like an earthbending version of the game hot potato), Sokka vaults over the wall, one hand already drawing Boomerang. Too focused on earthbending, the closest Dai Li agent doesn’t expect the blunt edge of the weapon coming from above. The agent crumples, hopefully just knocked cold. That had been a hard hit. 

Toph stops playing and yanks the wall back under the ground, then back up right beneath the remaining agent. He goes flying and lands with a thud. Sokka winces. 

“Looks like they haven’t given up yet,” Toph says, stepping forward to nudge the fallen agent in the ribs. Then her eyebrows go up and she says excitedly, pointing ahead, “Wait, I found Appa!” She pauses. “And someone else.” 

“More Dai Li?” Sokka asks, not putting Boomerang away yet. He trains his eyes on the large, nondescript door at the far end of the hall. 

“No,” she replies, frowning in concentration. “They kind of walk like a Dai Li agent, except… not like an earthbender. I’m not sure.” 

“Okay, then let’s go in quietly and be on our guard.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Toph says, already moving forward. 

Sokka quickly grabs her arm. “Toph, we don’t know what kind of a threat that person poses to Appa right now. I know you can take care of yourself, but please listen to me.” When she still looks unconvinced, he urges: “For Appa’s sake.” 

She considers this for a brief moment before nodding. Sokka’s glad now that he ended up with her instead of Aang. At the first hint of Appa, Aang would have been blasting his way through, no matter the consequences. 

Sokka leads the way to the door, which turns out to not be quite closed all the way. “What’s happening?” he whispers, unable to see anything through the crack. 

“They’re just standing there in front of Appa,” Toph answers just as quietly (and who knew she was capable of it?). “Wait, now they’re…” 

Sokka barely registers her hand on his shoulder before she’s yanking him backwards, slamming the door wide open, and rushing in. Shit! He runs in after her just as a metallic clanking rings out, echoing around the room. He quickly takes stock of the situation. 

Toph is standing in one of her standard bending starting positions, her hands raised, palms facing inwards—but she isn’t bending, just waiting. For what, Sokka doesn’t know, and he doesn’t have time to care. 

Because Appa  _ is _ here! He’s standing in the center of the room and looks a little worse for the wear, but he’s alive! 

Then Sokka spots the person Toph had felt—a slight figure dressed in tight-fitting dark clothes and a blue and white grinning mask. They’re standing in front of Appa and holding a sword in each hand, crossed before them. 

And lastly, Sokka identifies the sound as his gaze falls on a broken metal chain lying on the floor, one end rooted in an earthbent anchor. He finds the other half connected to a huge manacle around Appa’s front right leg. Oh, spirits. Appa’s other five legs are still chained to the floor. 

“Who are you?” Sokka demands, eyeing the swords. “What do you want with Appa?” 

Toph is frowning. “Is Appa tied down?” 

“Yeah.” Sokka spares her a glance, then feels stupid about it since she can’t make eye contact anyway. “But one of the chains is broken. Did you do that?” he directs his question towards the stranger. 

The masked figure ignores the question, but they do straighten from their ready stance and let their hands fall loosely to their sides. They don’t sheath the swords. 

“Look,” Sokka says, out of patience, “we’ve spent a long time trying to find Appa, and here you are, and here he is, and he’s  _ chained down _ ! So I want answers!” 

Toph twitches. “Sokka, I think someone’s coming.” The other two turn to her. “...Maybe a lot of someones.” 

“Alright, we need to get Appa out of here,” Sokka says decisively. He gives the stranger a hard look. “You. Can you break the rest of the chains?” 

They nod. 

“Do it then.” As over-protective as he’s feeling right now, Sokka’s smart enough not to throw away an advantage when he needs one. But for tactical reasons, he needs something to call them other than the mouthful that is “the masked stranger”—Masky, he decides quickly. Simple, yet descriptive. 

The stranger—no,  _ Masky _ —turns back to Appa and lifts their swords again. Sokka steps closer, Boomerang raised just in case, as Toph turns her attention to the door. 

With a rapid full-body spin and a sharp downward movement, Masky slashes their swords into the chain attached to Appa’s front left leg. The metal screams. Appa lifts his front legs triumphantly, roaring his approval. The severed chains jingle from his wrists. 

“Okay, good enough for me,” Toph says hurriedly. She brings the fingertips of each hand together, then splays them apart gently. The stone encasing the remaining chains seems to almost melt away, and the chains’ ends slip free. 

Sokka whips around, channeling his embarrassment at not thinking of that first into annoyance. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?!” 

“I wanted to see what they would do.” Toph shrugs. Sokka’s ready to give her a lecture about caution and risk, but he deflates when she continues: “I knew you wouldn’t let them hurt Appa.” 

“Oh. Well.” Sokka rubs the back of his head with Boomerang. “Thanks.” 

“No problem!” Toph kicks her foot leisurely, and the door slams shut. “Now get moving!” 

“What?” 

“Dai Li are coming! A bunch of them!” Toph is moving steadily now, hands grasping, feet shifting along the smooth floor with slight rasping sounds. The door and wall seem to be moving, too, but in a weird, dizzying way where they ultimately stay mostly in place. “And we need to get Appa out of here before we lose him again.” 

Sokka glances around the room again, seeking another exit. How far down are they, anyway? He spots a weak beam of sunlight trickling in from a tiny hole in the ceiling, but he isn’t sure if it marks the surface or just the end of a hole  _ to _ the surface. “Toph, can you make us a hole in the ceiling?” 

“Give me a minute,” she grunts. 

Sokka finally approaches Appa, forcing cheer into his voice. “Appa, buddy, _so_ glad to see you, big reunion later, but right now you gotta fly us out of here, okay?” He pats Appa’s shaggy side and accepts a giant tongue lick with dignity. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He scrambles up onto Appa’s back, trying not to pull on the fur too much. 

Toph shoves her hands in front of her and up, and a massive barricade of stone raises behind the entire front wall—and possibly out in the hallway, too, if those unfortunate crunches are what Sokka thinks they are. He tries  _ not  _ to think about it. 

She whirls around. “Okay, get ready to scram!” she yells, widening her stance to a deep squat. She straightens slowly, hands high above her head, and a round part of the ceiling several Appas wide smoothly raises with her. The stone grinds upwards higher and higher… 

The front wall slams down into the ground right as Sokka sees daylight stream in from far above. Before them, he can see an array of the dark green and pointy hats indicative of the Ba Sing Se secret police. Toph drops her hands, and there comes a shuddering  _ thump _ from somewhere up above them. She kicks a heel back and the wall slams right back up again. 

“Let’s go!” Sokka shouts, extending a hand to Masky, who has just been standing quietly watching Toph earthbend. The mask can’t portray expressions (besides creepy leering, of course), but their body language somehow manages to express disbelief. “We’re not just going to leave you to the Dai Li,” Sokka says firmly. “Especially not after you helped Appa.”  _ And not after what happened to Jet _ , he doesn’t say. 

In answer, Masky smoothly sheathes their swords together—wow, now that’s cool—and gingerly climbs aboard, ignoring Sokka’s offered hand. And  _ that’s _ rude. 

“Toph, come on!” Sokka calls. She’s still standing there, limbs moving in practiced, confident motions. From the number of uniforms Sokka had glimpsed during the brief wall-less-ness, she’s up against a pretty big crowd of earthbenders. 

“I’m not coming with you,” she replies matter-of-factly. 

“What?! Of course you are! I just said we’re not leaving anyone else behind—” 

“Sokka, just go! Someone needs to hold these guys off, and no offense, but I don’t think Boomerang will cut it here!” She pauses to deal with a couple agents who snuck in from a side wall. There’s a lull once she flings them back into the hallway, and she turns to face Sokka. 

“It was my fault we lost Appa last time,” she says quietly. “I’m not letting it happen again.” 

Sokka doesn’t know what to say to that. 

“Besides, we have the rendezvous point. And I’m not that anxious to start flying again, anyway!” Toph gives him a slight smile. “See you soon, Sokka.” 

“Toph, wait—” He’s too late. Toph shoves her hands upwards again, and the ground beneath Appa shoots upward until they’re level with the ceiling. Startled, Appa leaps into the air and performs a tight corkscrew up, up, up, his severed chains making a horrible clashing sound as they swing wildly around—and then they’re soaring out into the open air. 

Appa bellows in happiness, stretching out his legs and climbing higher. Sokka focuses on holding on. He sneaks a glance behind him to confirm Masky hasn’t fallen off. Their head is whipping from side to side as they (presumably) stare all around them, hands clenched tightly in Appa’s back fur. 

Sokka looks down, back to where they had emerged from the Dai Li hideout. There’s a column of multi-layered stone towering on the edge of the shore. That must have been all the rock between us and the surface, Sokka realizes. If Toph were here, he could tell her how impressive that was. Instead, she’s still there, still fighting, while Sokka’s flying free. 

He knew the group might get split up; that was the whole point of deciding on a meeting place. He just hadn’t expected to be the one escaping. But he can’t disobey his own plan and risk Appa by going back now. 

He turns back to face the front and corrects their course with a few gentle tugs on Appa’s horns. Appa rumbles and climbs higher, up past the clouds. They’ll have to go even higher than usual to hide the chains still dangling from Appa’s wrists. Sokka’s relieved to see none of the longer ones had tangled together during their ascent, instead trailing behind them in a rough formation like a flock of metal cranefish. 

Then, with Appa freed, Ba Sing Se disappearing behind them, and the rendezvous point straight ahead, Sokka has nothing left to think about except the people he had left behind. 

* * *

Zuko is freaking out. 

He’s ridiculously high up in the air riding on the back of the Avatar’s flying bison, without a saddle or anything. And one of the Avatar’s companions, the Water Tribe boy, is so close that Zuko can feel his body heat. They’re flying away from Ba Sing Se after the Dai Li tried to stop them, and that earthbending girl had displayed a frankly terrifying amount of power and control to help them escape, and Zuko is still in disguise as the traitorous Blue Spirit, and Uncle is getting further and further away. 

So yeah, he’s freaking out. Good thing Zuko’s good at improvising in messed up situations. 

He has no idea where they’re going or how he’s going to get back to Ba Sing Se (not home, never home). The earthbender had said something about a rendezvous point, demonstrating that they had planned ahead for needing to flee the city. Zuko is begrudgingly impressed at the foresight and wonders whose idea it had been. 

Probably the boy lying right next to him. Despite Zuko’s original impression during the whole “master of evasive maneuvering” situation, the information he had since gathered during his Avatar-hunting days suggested that neither the Avatar himself nor the waterbender possessed enough strategic aptitude to plan their way out of a paper bag. It was a combination of the non-bender’s planning, the Avatar’s sheer power, the waterbender’s prodigious skill, and Zuko’s own awful luck that had allowed them to remain always one step out of his reach. 

And now one of them is within his reach. Literally. Zuko frowns to himself, unsure what he wants to do about it. 

Even now, he isn’t sure what he would have done had the Avatar’s companions not shown up when they had. He had been freeing the bison of its chains, yes. He certainly wasn’t going to track it down just to leave it there (or kill it, he wasn’t a monster, no matter what some people thought). But once he’d finished breaking the chains? What then? 

_ You never think these things through _ , Uncle Iroh’s voice sighs in his ear, a common complaint of his. 

_ Be quiet, Uncle _ , Zuko thinks defensively.  _ I would’ve figured something out! I was going to free it, isn’t that good enough for you?  _ He glares down at the rolling hills and tiny dotted trees beneath him, trying to wipe his mind blank. It’s so much easier when he doesn’t have to think about things like morality or choices. Destiny is a simpler, if unrewarding, path to follow. 

Sneaking a glance from behind the mask, he eyes the teenager at his side. The boy is dressed in his typical Water Tribe blues and has his strange flying weapon holstered at his back. (Zuko resists the urge to rub the back of his head in pained recollection.) The boy appears unconcerned about the height or their precarious grasp on the bison, his grip in the fur relaxed, but he’s staring unseeingly into the distance. His brows are furrowed in thought, or maybe pain. He’s been like that for a couple hours now. 

Zuko finds himself thinking about the small girl they had left behind, wondering if she got out. And where were the Avatar and the waterbender? Maybe searching as well. But the Dai Li are formidable enemies; only Agni knows if any of them made it out of the secret headquarters. 

Would the Dai Li capture the Avatar? Zuko frowns, considering it. They clearly were willing to defy the Avatar, at least. Holding his bison hostage was a risky move. Stupid, or confident? And who would order the underground imprisonment of a flying bison, anyway? That was just cruel. If it had been his pet bison chained down like that—he stops. 

He shakes his head in another attempt to clear his thoughts. Learning more about the Dai Li might help him remain hidden in plain sight, but speculating on their surprisingly adversarial stance towards the Avatar was just… confusing. 

The movement catches the attention of the Water Tribe boy, who turns to look. His expression is appraising but fairly neutral, so he clearly has no idea who’s behind the mask. Zuko intends to keep it that way. 

“...So,” the boy drawls. 

Zuko doesn’t respond. He can’t afford to; he knows his voice is distinctive. A single word could ruin his disguise, and then he’d be in an even worse mess. So instead he just glares back, knowing it’s a pointless gesture. 

“Are you ever going to answer me?”

Zuko sits up enough to cross his arms in reply and immediately regrets it as a gust of wind hits. It’s not really enough to overbalance him, but he grabs wildly for the bison’s fur again. The boy snickers at him. Great. 

“Don’t worry, Appa won’t let you fall,” the boy assures him. He tilts his head to one side, thinking. “Actually, he can’t really help it if you fall off, but he won’t let you hit the ground.” 

_ Was that supposed to make me feel better?  _ Zuko holds on a little tighter. 

“Anyway. Uh, thanks for your help back there.” The boy lowers his voice as his tone grows solemn. “I don’t know why you were unchaining Appa, but—thanks. He means a lot to my friend.” 

Appa gives off a snort. 

“And to me! You mean a lot to me, too, buddy!” The boy calls back hurriedly. He pats the bison’s massive head. 

“So, uh, I’m Sokka,” he says, turning back to Zuko and offering a smile. 

There’s an awkward pause. Zuko refuses to look at Sokka, feeling somewhat uncomfortable ignoring him but unable to do anything about it. 

“...you really aren’t going to talk, are you.  _ Can  _ you talk?” Sokka asks, peering intently at the mask. “Wait, sorry, that’s insensitive of me.” 

This time it’s Zuko who gives a snort. Belatedly, he claps a hand to the mouth of his mask, like an idiot. 

Sokka laughs again, but this time it seems friendlier. “Alright, well, talk, don’t talk, whatever’s fine.  _ I’m _ going to talk. It’ll be nice not having to deal with backtalk for a change.” 

Zuko exaggeratedly cocks his head to one side, feeling ridiculous. Might as well try to be polite, even if it makes him feel like a meerkat prairie dog. 

“What do I mean? Well, the rest of my group can be pretty mouthy,” Sokka explains with a shrug. “...I miss them already.” He looks away, back in the direction of the city. 

Zuko sits still in the silence and feels even more awkward. Ugh. What is he supposed to do now? Hug him? Yeah, right. 

Sokka gives himself a shake after a few more moments. “But I’ll see them again soon. We’re meeting up at a rendezvous point. That’s where we’re headed now.” 

Seeing an opportunity to participate in the rather one-sided conversation, Zuko cautiously lets go with one hand and points to his own chest, tilting his head again in question. 

“Oh. What about you?” Sokka frowns. “Uh, I guess you have to come with me to the rendezvous point. I can’t take you back to Ba Sing Se. I could drop you off somewhere on the way?” His voice raises in pitch throughout the last sentence, clearly unsure. 

Zuko eyes the wilderness rushing by beneath them and shakes his head emphatically. He’s in no rush to relive his lone travel and near starvation. 

“Okay, then I guess you’re coming with!” Sokka shrugs again, smiling lightly. 

_Why does he seem so happy about it?_ Zuko wonders, suspicious. _I’m a stranger, he shouldn’t let me go with him._ _I thought he was smarter than this._

Sokka continues to chatter, oblivious to Zuko’s uncharitable thoughts. “We should be there pretty soon. Appa’s a speedster, aren’t you buddy?” he asks, crawling up to rub a spot between Appa’s shoulder blades. The bison groans in response, presumably a happy noise. 

Zuko sighs inwardly and starts memorizing the location of Ba Sing Se relative to their current trajectory. He’ll have to find his own way back sooner or later. Preferably sooner.  _ I’m not leaving Uncle behind again _ , he promises himself. 

“Hey, look, there’s a town up ahead!” Sokka points out. “Just before that mountain ridge. I think the mountain is where we need to go, but maybe we can check out the town later. I don’t exactly have a lot of supplies with me.” 

Zuko nods absentmindedly. Where there’s a town, there’s transportation. There’s little as fast as a flying bison, but anything beats walking back to Ba Sing Se. 

_ I’ll be back soon, Uncle. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the boys meet! 
> 
> ... _again_ , unbeknownst to Sokka, and all too knownst to Zuko.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the rendezvous point is found, the boys struggle to talk to each other, and Zuko gets a new name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the boys have met and have fled Ba Sing Se - what now? Expect lots of perspective switches in this one. 
> 
> Thought I'd post today's chapter a bit early, seeing as it's the weekend. Happy Halloween!

“Okay, I’m pretty sure this is the right place,” Sokka says flatly, looking straight ahead. 

Masky doesn’t answer, of course, but they do loosen their death grip on Appa’s fur to sit up and get a closer look. The two of them stare for a moment. 

“Yep.” Sokka nods. “Those are hopping llamas, all right.” 

* * *

They touch down in a meadow lined by evergreen trees, descending slowly so the llamas have time to hop out of sight. Appa makes a surprised noise, tramping his paws up and down against the vibrant grass. Then he groans happily. Sokka barely has enough warning to grab Masky’s arm and yank them to the ground before Appa flops onto his side and starts rolling around. 

“Looks like someone’s happy to be above ground,” Sokka says over the sound of chains clanking together. He tries to share a smile with Masky, but the cold grin he gets back from the mask just doesn’t quite feel the same. He realizes he’s still holding Masky’s bicep, and wow, what a bicep it is, all tensed up like that—oops. “Uh, sorry about that,” he says, letting go and stepping back. The mask stares blankly back at him, but Masky does seem to relax a little. 

“Well!” Sokka claps his hands together. “Shall we find a campsite? It’s going to be dark pretty soon.” 

Masky nods. Sokka’s pleased that he got  _ something  _ out of the stoically silent stranger, but he resolves to prod some conversation out, one way or another. 

“Appa, stay here for now, okay?” he calls to the bison. Appa stops rolling and lies flat on his back with a  _ whump _ , legs splayed out around him. “I’ll take that as a yes, too.” 

He leads the way up one of the gently sloping sides of the meadow, heading towards the mountain summit towering above them. He hopes to find a cave or an overhang to use for shelter closer in to the rocky ridge. They’re already pretty high up; the air feels thinner here. 

He wishes he’d forced the group to return to their Upper Ring home first in order to pack some supplies. A rendezvous point  _ was  _ an excellent idea, if he does say so himself, but it would’ve been useful to have some  _ food _ , too. Or sleeping bags. Or his club. Or food. Or spark rocks. Anything, really, in addition to the thin clothes he’s wearing, a map, and Boomerang. But definitely food. 

His stomach gurgles at him. He ignores it. It’s not like he’s never gone hungry before. Shelter first, then water,  _ then _ food, he reminds himself sternly. Those are the priorities. 

They emerge from a thick cluster of trees and find a much steeper incline before them, still somewhat grassy but with few trees and more rocky terrain. Sokka begins to look around, slowly scanning the landscape from one side to another. 

Something taps his shoulder. He jumps a little, pretends he didn’t, and turns to face Masky. Sokka looks to where they’re pointing. “Oh, good, you found a cave,” he says, glad they appear to be on the same page. “Let’s check it out.” 

They continue in silence, approaching the cave entrance slowly. Sokka’s breathing a little harder at the tougher hike and is kind of embarrassed about it; he can’t hear a sound from Masky. 

Sokka halts once they’re a short distance away. He has to grab onto Masky’s arm again to stop them from continuing on. “Wait,” he whispers. 

Masky yanks their arm back. Sokka gets the sense that he’s on the receiving end of a glare, so he hurries to explain. “There could be something in the cave already. Let me check it out first.” He waits for acknowledgement as the mask stares up towards the cave entrance consideringly. 

When it doesn’t come right away, he tries again. “Look, I may not be the most familiar with Earth Kingdom animals, but I  _ do  _ know that there can be some nasty things in caves. It could be some cute little meadow voles, or it could be an angry tigerdillo. It might not be worth the trouble. Just trust me on this.” 

Masky turns back to him and stares unnervingly for a few more seconds. Then they nod slowly and take a step back. A gloved hand reaches back to rest on the hilts of those truly awesome dual swords. 

Relieved that he won the argument—and that he clearly has capable backup in case there  _ is  _ a tigerdillo—Sokka draws Boomerang and creeps up to the cave. The entrance looks just about large enough to squeeze Appa through, which unfortunately means it’s also large enough to fit just about any land predator Sokka’s ever heard of. He takes a careful breath and pokes his head around the side. 

* * *

Zuko watches the Water Tribe boy—Sokka, he reminds himself—sneak up to the cave, feeling pretty annoyed at being left behind. If it was up to him, they’d have climbed up here a lot faster and gone straight into the cave. They’d have been sheltered sooner! 

But what if there  _ is _ something in the cave? Zuko frowns and resists the urge to scuff his feet.  _ I’d have handled it!  _ he answers himself defensively.  _ But… maybe it does make sense to be cautious.  _

Sokka has reached the entrance and is standing just to one side of it. Zuko pulls his swords out a few fingers’ width, making sure they aren’t stuck in the sheath, and readies himself for anything that may come charging out. All Sokka has is that annoying flying weapon. It looked like it might have a sharp edge, but Zuko doubts it could take down a large, angry animal. The Water Tribes are used to hunting, right? They must have other kinds of weapons. Will Sokka be able to handle it with just that one? 

Zuko recognizes he’s worrying and immediately pretends he is not.  _ I would rather not have to deal with an incapacitated… temporary ally _ , he tells himself.  _ It would be… inconvenient. _

He tenses when Sokka sticks his head around the corner. They’re both frozen for a heartbeat. Two. Three. 

Then Sokka straightens and steps inside the cave, hugging the closest wall and clearly still making an effort to be quiet. He quickly disappears into the shadows. 

Zuko waits. He drums his fingers against his sword hilts. Shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then back again. He holds back an impatient huff, not used to being the backup. He feels like a civilian waiting for rescue. 

He waits some more, for what feels like an age, before his patience finally runs out. Fuck this. He starts up the slope towards the cave, drawing his swords as he goes. 

Of course that’s exactly when Sokka reappears at the entrance, perfectly unharmed. He frowns when he sees Zuko approaching, but all he says is: “Looks clear.” Zuko’s relieved he doesn’t have to deal with a rampaging beast or an injured teenager. Honestly, he’s kind of tired. 

He follows Sokka into the cave but doesn’t sheathe his swords until he verifies Sokka’s all-clear. The cave isn’t huge, narrowing almost immediately from its entrance as it tunnels deeper into the mountain side. At the back, its walls come nearly all the way together, leaving an opening just large enough for the boys to fit through one at a time. On the other side, there’s a small den with a low ceiling. Zuko has to duck his head a little bit, while Sokka can just barely stand upright. 

It’s dark in here; Zuko has to let his eyes adjust before he can finish scanning the area for threats. There are dried pine needles scattered all over the hard-packed earth floor, but to his admittedly amateur eyes, there’s no evidence of a recent inhabitant. There’s a small hole towards the center of the low ceiling, maybe the size of a fist. Zuko can’t see where it leads to. 

“I think this will work,” Sokka says, breaking the silence. “I’m going to go get Appa and hopefully some wood before the sun sets.” 

Zuko hesitates.  _ Just sitting around in this cave would be boring, _ he tells himself truthfully. It’s his favorite kind of truth: the kind that leaves out other, more embarrassing truths. Such as the truth that he’s used to menial labor after working at the tea shop, or that it wouldn’t feel right twiddling his thumbs while someone else—someone who had just helped him escape from the Dai Li, no less—did all the work. He prefers to leave  _ those _ truths unsaid and unacknowledged. 

In response to Sokka, Zuko shakes his head and points to his own chest. 

“What?” 

Zuko sighs. This is going to get annoying very quickly. In fact, it’s already annoying. He locates a twig on the floor and picks it up, then points to himself again. 

“Ohh, you’re saying  _ you _ can gather the wood?” Sokka asks. 

Zuko gives a short nod and stalks out, glad to have something to do. 

“Okay, great!” comes from behind him. “Uh, see you back here, I guess!” 

* * *

“See you back here?” Sokka repeats in a mocking undertone. “Real smooth, Sokka. Where else are they going to go?” He’s picking his way back down the slope to retrieve Appa, hoping the bison will actually fit inside the cave. If not, he hopes it at least won’t rain. No way they’re making it any further tonight. 

Appa is still lying down when Sokka gets back to the clearing, but given the way his chains are now tangled together, Sokka suspects it isn’t entirely by choice. The bison is on his side, his back four feet drawn close together. He moans when he sees Sokka. 

“Hey, buddy,” Sokka says reassuringly. “Looks like you’re in a bit of trouble. Let’s get you untangled.” 

It ends up taking him a while. The chains are heavier than he expected, and Appa has drawn the knots tight in his efforts to get loose. By the time Appa gets to his feet, the sun is nearly gone from the horizon, and the temperature is quickly dropping. 

They trudge, jingling, back up the mountainside to the cave. There’s a soft glow emanating from it. Turns out Appa does fit into the outer cave, though only just. He turns in a tight circle before curling up just inside the entrance. 

Sokka finds his silent companion in the back den sitting cross-legged before a merrily crackling campfire. “I guess you found plenty of wood,” he says. “And  _ I _ found plenty of Appa!” 

Masky doesn’t react at all, and there’s an awkward pause. They seem to have a lot of those. 

“Anyway.” Sokka rubs the back of his head. “Thanks for starting a fire. Really convenient that you happened to have spark rocks on you!” 

That gets him a total non-reaction too, though Masky looks even more frozen now that they’ve stopped breathing. Oh, wait. 

“How is it not super smokey in here?” 

Masky points upwards while letting out a long exhale. 

“Wha—oh, there’s a natural chimney! Sweet! Good thinking.” Sokka sends Masky a smile. 

They nod and quickly look back to the fire. Are they… shy? 

Sokka sits down and holds his hands out to the flames. “Ahh… toasty.” He sits quietly, letting the warmth of the campfire loosen his stiff muscles. 

There’s a soft  _ clink _ from the other “room.” Oh, right. 

“Hey, uh, you know how you broke Appa’s chains earlier?” Sokka pauses, waiting for an answer just to confirm that Masky is listening. At their nod, he asks: “Do you think you could break the rest of them? And maybe the manacles?” 

Masky stands in a single fluid motion, presumably in answer. 

Sokka stands too, but somewhat less gracefully. “I know he’ll really appreciate getting out of them. I wonder how long he was down there...” He trails off, lost in guilty thoughts. Poor Appa. He’s not made for being kept grounded for so long, let alone underground. He recalls the sight of Appa chained in his cell, but then the image changes and suddenly it’s Katara, Aang, and Toph huddled together, chains at their wrists and ankles. What if they were captured? How long will  _ they _ be down there? 

A poke to his shoulder brings him back to the present. “Right, sorry,” he mutters, shaking his head rapidly. The mask is staring at him. 

Sokka turns around and leads the short way back to Appa’s side. His throat is feeling strangely tight, so he doesn’t bother to say anything. Masky already knows what to do, anyway. 

Masky stands in front of Appa and waves their arms in the air. 

Okay, maybe not? 

* * *

Zuko raises his arms up and down at the bison, feeling ridiculous.  _ Up,  _ he thinks,  _ get up _ .  _ Get  _ up,  _ you dumb bison! _ It’s difficult enough to communicate the simplest of things to Sokka without talking, let alone an animal. A smart animal that seems to understand a lot of human speech, but still.  _ I can’t cut your manacles off while you’re lying down _ , he thinks as hard as he can, hoping the thought will magically make its way into Appa’s head. 

Sokka doesn’t seem to be interested in helping. That or he’s still thinking about… whatever it was he was thinking about when he looked so worried. Not that Zuko cares. 

He bends down and rattles one of the longer chains, tugging on it gently. It’s like tugging on a mountain, but luckily Appa seems to get the message. The bison complains but climbs to his feet. 

Zuko debates where to start. He had been able to keep his distance when it was just the chains he was breaking; for the manacles, he’ll have to be much closer. The back legs are further from that absolutely massive mouth, but most animals are skittish about strangers being around their hindquarters. Front legs it is, then. Maybe he can build up some trust. He’s done it before with komodo rhinos; surely he can do it with a sky bison. 

Stepping forward cautiously, Zuko crouches down by Appa’s head on one side. Usually he’d be making soothing noises right about now, but he’s worried even that would blow his cover. 

Luckily, Appa remains calm, blinking down at Zuko unconcernedly. Zuko examines the manacle closest to him. It’s not very tight, and it appears that Appa’s thick fur was able to protect him from most of the irritation that comes with being manacled for an extended period of time. Appa’s shaggy paws are large enough that the manacle will clearly not be coming off in one piece. 

Zuko draws his swords without thinking, then freezes in place. But Appa still does nothing.  _ Maybe he remembers that I helped him with these before.  _ Straightening from his crouch, Zuko takes a few deep breaths. This is going to be tricky. 

The manacles are thicker than the chains and will require significant force to break—which means firebending. 

Zuko thanks Agni yet again that Uncle saw fit to teach Zuko that technique early on. By channeling his inner fire through his chi paths with perfect control, he’s able to release pure power without actual flames. It’s not like his thin dual dao can shatter metal alone. 

Zuko hasn’t had an issue with stray sparks escaping during this technique in a long time.  _ But with my luck _ … he thinks grimly. He knows Sokka’s willingness to work with him will instantly evaporate if Zuko reveals his firebending. Hopefully this works. 

He spins in place and exhales sharply, releasing his breath and a burst of chi right as his swords make contact with the left and right sides of the manacle. The precise blows crack right through the metal but no deeper. And there’s absolutely no signs of firebending.  _ Well done, Prince Zuko! _ an echo of Uncle says in his head. 

Appa gives his foot a heavy stamp. The manacle splits open at the cracks, and the two halves fall off with heavy  _ clank _ s. 

“Hey, nice job!” Apparently Sokka is paying attention again. “I don’t understand how you do it, but man, am I glad that you can!” 

Zuko feels his face warm behind the mask. Must be the exertion. He moves to Appa’s other side and repeats the process. Reassured that Appa understands the situation and isn’t about to kick him in the face, he then continues down the line until all six manacles are in pieces on the cave floor. 

By the end, his arms are feeling kind of tired. Forcing that much chi through them in quick succession wasn’t easy. He barely manages to return his swords to their sheath on his back before his arms fall limply to his sides. 

Sokka hurries around Appa, gathering up pieces of metal and chains. “Man, that was really cool,” he gushes unashamedly. “I wish I could do that!” He dumps the whole armful in a corner of the cave with a huge clatter and a wince. Turning back, Sokka manages to look him in the eye and says sincerely: “Thank you. Again.” 

Zuko’s cheeks are really feeling overheated now. He shakes his head in an attempt to wave aside the thanks.  _ It kind of is the least I could do _ , he thinks,  _ after chasing you around on Appa for so long _ . 

A hot breeze gusts over the top of his head. He turns to find himself face to mask with Appa. The bison opens his mouth a crack, revealing teeth bigger than Zuko’s head. Before Zuko can react, there’s an enormous tongue slurping up against the mask. Satisfied, Appa lies back down and begins licking at his newly freed wrists. 

“Aw,” Sokka laughs. “Appa’s saying thank you, too.” 

Slightly stunned, Zuko retreats, flopping down by the fire. Sokka follows and stretches out on his side, head propped on one hand. Sokka looks totally nonchalant about what to Zuko seems like a very strange position while in company. Granted, Zuko doesn’t care much for propriety. He’s not  _ bothered _ . It’s just… surprising, how relaxed the other boy looks. Maybe Zuko can let his guard down a little, too. 

They stay like that for a while, both staring quietly into the coals of the small fire. Eventually, Zuko drops into a semi-meditative state; he breathes slowly and deeply, finally able to calm his mind and just  _ exist _ . He feels almost peaceful. 

Of course, that’s when Sokka breaks the silence. 

* * *

“That fabric looks pretty breathable,” Sokka blurts out without thinking. “The mask? Does not.” 

Silence again, much more tense than it had been a moment ago. The mask slowly tilts up to look at him. Sokka closes his mouth with a click and resists the urge to slap his forehead; he’s already lost too many cool points. What in Tui’s name was that?! He groans to himself. _I didn’t even mean to say anything! I was just thinking about why they still have that mask on, and I’m incapable of saying anything without making a joke or a pun…_ _Okay, okay. You can salvage this. Stay cool._

“Uhh…” Mind blank, Sokka tries to backpedal. “I mean, uh. I just meant—why are you still wearing that mask? The Dai Li are way behind us now.” 

Masky hesitates, then flicks out a finger to point at Sokka, not even bothering to move their arm from their lap. 

“Who, me? You don’t want me to know who you are, either, huh?” Sokka frowns, instantly jumping to multiple, totally distinct conclusions. They’re a spy; they’re super ugly; they’re super shy; they have no face—and _that_ had been hands down Aang’s scariest story of the Spirit World—they’re actually Princess Azula in disguise, oh spirits. Sokka reins in his imagination as his final thought seems the most likely: _They probably just don’t trust me. Yet!_

“Well,” he continues after only a moment, “I guess that’s understandable. You don’t really know me, and obviously I know even less about you—I don’t even know your name!” Sokka throws his free hand in the air for emphasis. “Actually, about that. Is there something I can call you? Even if it’s not your real name.” 

He waits as Masky considers this. Or maybe they’re ignoring him, who knows. But Sokka can be patient. You build up a tolerance for waiting after long hours spent fishing, hunting, and—most recently—flying. 

Finally, Masky gives him a quick shrug. Well, that was anticlimactic. But then they point to their mask, tapping on the grinning mouth, and Sokka gets it. 

“Oh, right. You don’t talk. Can’t? Won’t?” he wonders aloud. “Anyway. Guess that means it’s up to me. How about…” he gives the person a slow once over, squinting as though deep in thought. They shuffle in place a bit, almost like a squirm. 

“I got it!” Sokka exclaims. “Masky!” 

Once again, silence falls. This time it’s broken by a horned toad croaking outside, sounding kind of disappointed. 

“No? Okay, fine. Toothy? You’ve got these kind of, big…” Sokka draws his fingers up in front of his face, mimicking the tusk-like teeth framing the mask’s grin. “Hm. Maybe not. Okay, how about just ‘Blue’?” 

More quiet. Sokka is really getting tired of holding up an entire conversation. 

“Y’know, because of the mask? It’s blue?” 

To Sokka’s surprise, the person actually reacts like a real person to that: there’s the quiet huff of a sigh as they lower their head into their palms. 

“Ha! Blue it is.” Sokka nods decisively. Less descriptive than Masky, maybe, but it’s admittedly a bit more dignified as well. “Simple, yet elegaaaaaw...” His words are cut off by a massive yawn. 

“Alright, Blue, I’m gonna hit the hay, as they say in the Earth Kingdom.” He rolls onto his back, arms behind his head. “Tomorrow we can make a plan. For stuff. Maybe food.” And with that, he drifts off to the quiet crackling of the campfire. 

* * *

Zuko watches Sokka sleep until he realizes it’s kind of creepy. He shifts to lying on his own back, making sure his good side is closest to Sokka while also angled towards the den entrance. 

He feels exhaustion deep in his bones from the day’s events. But as tired as he is, he has trouble falling asleep. It’s not just the unfamiliar location—it’s the unfamiliar company. He doesn’t understand how the other boy is able to sleep so soundly with one of his worst enemies barely an arm’s reach away. Not that he knows that, to be fair. 

He feels somewhat guilty for the friendliness Sokka has shown him so far, like he’s taking advantage somehow. Better than getting dropped off the side of the bison, though. He resolves to keep the mask on for the foreseeable future. And to keep his mouth shut. 

That second part will be harder. It was difficult enough not talking back as Sokka brainstormed  _ nicknames  _ for Zuko. 

“Toothy? Really?” Zuko mutters aloud without thinking, then tenses. He slides his eyes to where Sokka is snoring on the other side of the glowing coals. This is going to be harder than he thought. 

He sighs again and closes his eyes. He needs sleep. Tomorrow he has to find a way back to Ba Sing Se, or at least a way to contact Uncle.  _ Or you could wait here for the Avatar to show up. This is their rendezvous point, after all…  _ A sly voice whispers in the back of his mind. 

It’s a long time before Zuko falls asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wish Sokka had stuck with "Masky"?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka begins the adoption process and Zuko identifies some Fire Nation propaganda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning: the Bigotry & Prejudice tag comes into play in this chapter via some Fire Nation propaganda. The Fire Nation has a superiority complex and, as part of its colonialist campaign, indoctrinates its citizens to look down on the other nations. (It's not all that dark, but it is condescending and offensive.)

Sokka wakes abruptly, Yue’s name on his lips as he bolts upright. It takes a moment before he realizes he’s not at the spirits’ oasis in the Northern Water Tribe but instead in a cave. Right, the rendezvous point. 

Heart pounding, he lets out a breath and flops back onto his back. He tries to clear the images out of his mind, feeling guilty even as he shuts his eyes against white hair and a soft smile.  _ Sorry, Yue, but I can’t mourn you right now. _

He sits back up as soon as he feels able. He’s alone in the cave—the innermost, smaller section, anyway—and he can’t hear anything from outside. The fire must have died down entirely during the night, as there’s not even glowing coals left. Sokka levers himself to his feet and stretches, suppressing a yawn. He’s learning to be cautious; no need to make unnecessary noise in an unguarded location. 

Making his way into the outer cave, he notes that Appa’s no longer curled up inside. Kind of hard to miss. The light streaming in from the cave entrance is gentle but bright. It must be significantly past sunrise. 

Sokka exits the cave and immediately spots Appa a little ways down the slope, lapping at… a random boulder? Sokka rubs his eyes and looks again. Oh, there’s a collection of brightly-colored objects resting atop the boulder—some kind of fruit, maybe. Looks like someone found breakfast. 

Sokka’s stomach growls in response. 

Instincts tingling, Sokka turns to look to his right. A short distance away, Blue appears to be stretching, one lean leg stuck out before them as they bend double over it. The mask tilts upwards at him, then dips a little, which Sokka decides to take as a greeting. 

“Morning,” he says, letting out the yawn this time. “Did you find some food?” 

Blue points to a collection of small, pinkish fruit, laid out on a smooth rock a few paces away. 

“Nice!” Sokka says delightedly, immediately grabbing one and biting in. Its juice runs down his chin as he chews happily. “I’m  _ so _ hungry,” he admits. The fruit is sweet, slightly tart, and firm. He wouldn’t have much cared if it were sour and mushy. “Where’d you find these?” he asks with his mouth full. 

Blue switches legs, stretching out the other and lowering back into a deep bend. They gesture vaguely to the south with one arm. 

“Well, thanks,” Sokka says. Tossing away the fruit’s pit, he swipes another from the pile and starts in on it. “Have you eaten?” he thinks to ask after a minute. 

Blue doesn’t respond. Of course they don’t. But Sokka thinks he hears the rumbling of a stomach that isn’t his. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Sokka says, feeling a weird sense of deja vu, “because if you  _ hadn’t _ eaten yet, then I’d have to sit you down and force feed you. We both missed dinner, at the least.” 

Blue stops stretching and turns to him, head cocked to the side in a way that Sokka is quickly finding endearing. 

Unwilling to examine how soon he’d taken up responsibility for this stranger, Sokka decides to double down. “That’s right. You’d better eat if you don’t want both of us to embarrass ourselves.” 

He finishes off the second fruit, munching thoughtfully, and grabs a third. “I’d probably have to take your mask off for that,” he muses, mostly joking. 

Blue closes the distance between them with a few quick strides. Sokka stands frozen, wondering if he’d crossed a line. Standing right before him, Blue slowly reaches up and _shifts the mask_! They only move it up a little bit, just enough that Sokka can see their mouth and strikingly pale skin. Do they wear that mask all the time or something? Geez. 

Distracted by this thought, he doesn’t notice Blue reaching out until they’ve plucked the untouched fruit from Sokka’s grasp. They take a huge bite—somehow managing to avoid leaking juice, which is now drying stickily on Sokka’s chin—and chew slowly, not moving from directly in front of Sokka. Proving a point, clearly. 

“Okay, okay,” Sokka laughs, stepping around Blue and reaching down for another fruit. “Just making sure.” 

Blue frowns. 

Sokka’s elated that he can  _ tell _ . (Spirits, he never knew he could miss basic human expressions this much.) But he realizes that Blue prefers to be hidden, so he does his best not to draw attention to it. Instead, he takes a bite out of his third fruit and begins to plan. 

“So,” he says. “The others probably won’t be here for another couple days, at least. Appa’s a lot faster than most forms of transportation. And,” here he pats at his clothing, “I unfortunately don’t have much in the way of supplies on me. So we need to go into town to pick up some things.” 

Blue continues eating and doesn’t react. 

“Thoughts?” Sokka pushes. He’d rather know where Blue stands. It’s difficult to read a stranger when their face is hidden and they refuse to talk. So far, Blue’s actions  _ have _ proved them trustworthy. They freed Appa from the Dai Li (started to, anyway), removed Appa’s manacles, and apparently got up early to gather breakfast for all of them. Still, the mystery surrounding them has Sokka somewhat on edge. 

At the prodding, Blue gives a short nod and tosses the pit of their eaten fruit towards the treeline. 

“Alright, then.” Sokka reaches into his tunic’s inner pocket—his idea, Katara’s execution, and wow, does he miss his sister right now—and pulls out his latest Ba Sing Se allowance to count his funds. It’s not a ton, but it should be enough for some food and basic camping supplies. “I’m going to take Appa over to that town we saw from the air last night. Are you going to come?” 

He waits for an answer. Blue isn’t obligated to come, of course, nor are they even obligated to stay. Oh, maybe he should clarify… “You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want,” he reassures Blue hastily. “I can get us some supplies, and we can wait here for the rest of my group. Then we can drop you wherever you’d like.” 

Blue gives a shrug. 

“...I don’t know what that means,” Sokka says finally when no further information is forthcoming. 

Blue looks around, then picks up a short, sturdy stick. They step over to a softer patch of grassless dirt and begin scratching lines into the ground. 

Sokka steps up to their side and squints at the emerging symbols. 

Blue seems to finish, straightening up and turning to look at Sokka expectantly. 

“Uh.” Sokka scratches his head. “Does this one mean ‘house’?” he asks, pointing to a vaguely familiar symbol. 

There’s a hollow sound as Blue slaps a hand to their mask. 

“Well, sorry that I don’t read… wait, is that… Fire Nation?” Sokka frowns, examining the characters again. “It has some similarities with the Earth Kingdom writing I’ve seen, but—” he turns to Blue, who is now staring down at the ground. 

“Why are you not writing in Earth Kingdom? Are you from a Fire Nation colony or something?” Sokka had met people in Ba Sing Se who’d grown up under Fire Nation occupation; they had all demonstrated an unusual mix of cultures, though they were clearly trying to act like model Earth Kingdom citizens. Certainly no one was writing in Fire Nation in Ba Sing Se. 

Blue gives another shrug, this one more reluctant than the previous. 

“Okay…” Sokka says slowly, filing this detail away in the “weird and potentially dangerous stuff” section of his notes on the stranger. “Well… can you write in any Water Tribe scripts?” 

The mask turns to him quickly. 

“You know, like this?” Sokka takes the stick and writes “Sokka was here” in the dirt in his tribe’s syllabic script. 

Blue studies the new characters and shakes their head. They gesture at Sokka’s writing and cock their head to one side. 

“‘What’s it say?’” Sokka asks, wishing he’d written something cooler. 

Blue shakes their head again and crouches, fingers brushing the edges of the characters. 

“Have you never seen Water Tribe writing before?” Sokka guesses. 

Again, Blue shakes their head, but this time in confirmation, Sokka thinks. 

“I mean, it’s true that we track a lot of our history through oral storytelling,” Sokka explains, “but we also have a writing system. How else would we communicate with the other nations?” he says lightly. “Or our sister tribe, or each other when we’re not in the same place?” 

Blue doesn’t answer. They use a hand to wipe out their own written characters, leaving just a smear in the dirt, then stand and nod towards Appa. 

(Sokka’s secretly pleased that Blue didn’t erase Sokka’s message; it’s fitting, given the meaning.) 

“Are you coming with?” Sokka starts to head towards Appa without waiting for a response. “We can grab some food, maybe a cookpot or something, and get back way before any of my friends could possibly get here. Easy.” He throws a smile behind him, pleased to see Blue is following. “We’ll be back before you can say, ‘Appa, yip, yip!’” 

He’s wrong. It’s not easy. 

* * *

Back in the air, Zuko pays little attention to their surroundings as he thinks about what just happened. So the Water Tribes  _ do _ have a writing system. More than one, from what Sokka said. 

He’d written his message to Sokka in the dirt in the everyday Fire Nation script rather than the Imperial script he was more used to; he figured it was less likely that the other nations had adopted the more formal writing. But Sokka couldn’t read it. 

Not surprising—or it shouldn’t have felt surprising, given that he’d grown up with the understanding that the Water Tribes were functionally illiterate. Able to read and write some numbers, maybe, for trading purposes, but that’s all. And yet Zuko had always found that hard to believe. 

_ How could an entire nation not be able to read or write? _ He’d asked his tutor at the time, years ago. 

_ You must remember, Prince Zuko, that the Water Tribes are not like the Fire Nation _ , the tutor had responded.  _ Their people lack both the ambition and the resources necessary to develop such technologies. _

_ However!  _ The tutor held up a finger, smiling thinly. _ We are confident that, given enough guidance, they will be able to learn the basics of our writing system. Think of the impact that will make, the blessing this will be for them! We will bring them enlightenment, young prince.  _

But then Zuko had traveled the world for three years. He’d had to learn a lot of things his royal education had left out, and he’d even had to unlearn certain things that turned out to be totally wrong. That had been a bitter pill to swallow at first, but these days, Zuko was much more willing to trust first-person sources—his own eyes and ears—than his imperial tutors. 

Zuko knows now that there are a lot of things he still doesn’t know. 

Things like the fact that the Water Tribes do have writing systems. And no _,_ not everyone can read Fire Nation by now—probably only in the colonies like Sokka suggested. He feels embarrassed at his assumption that, were Sokka to turn out literate (against the odds given by Zuko’s tutors), he would of course be literate in Fire Nation first and foremost. As a Water Tribesman. Right. 

Zuko looks up to where Sokka is sitting atop Appa’s head, his hands lightly grasping the fur on either side of him. Watching Sokka yell directions to Appa over the wind, Zuko thinks about what else he learned about the Water Tribes, about what else he knew of the Fire Nation’s superiority. He wonders how much of it will turn out to be wrong. 

It’s not like he’ll get the chance to find out now, though. Zuko has no intentions of staying at the Avatar’s rendezvous point. None. No matter what the scheming, sly voice in his head suggests (the one that sounds like Azula) nor how many times Sokka invites him to stay, Zuko will  _ not  _ be staying. 

He just wants to return to Ba Sing Se and apologize to Uncle for probably worrying him. Then he can… he can continue to serve tea and… and that’s all. 

He hadn’t exactly planned to leave the city, after all. Freeing Appa was a spur of the moment decision, but Zuko’s sure that, had the earthbender and Sokka not shown up when they did, Zuko would’ve finished cutting the bison free and then would have gone straight back to his apartment. He’s pretty certain. Definitely positive. His own motives and intentions are completely transparent to himself. He knows exactly what he wants—okay, fine, that’s too far. Zuko grimaces. 

He’s not sure what he would do if the Avatar were suddenly sitting before him wrapped up like a present with a bow on top, but right now, he’s also not interested in finding out. It’s too confusing. His head hurts trying to think about it, voices arguing over each other trying to convince him—Azula’s voice, Uncle’s voice,  _ Father’s  _ voice… 

Everyone wants something from him. He can’t say yes to them all, and he doesn’t know how to choose, so Zuko just… avoids. He’s avoiding decisions, these days. He can feel walls closing in on him, as though fate is going to force him to choose any moment now. But not yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sokka is confused about but comfortable with Blue, whereas Zuko's ready to bounce! A healthy combo. 
> 
> About the writing systems: I'm not developing it in detail in this fic, but I like the idea that the nations could have more than one language. Of course, it makes more sense for there to be multiple _spoken_ languages too if there's going to be multiple written languages, but that presented a communication barrior more complex than I wanted to tackle for this plot. So please suspend your disbelief and indulge me. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't go very well in town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes folks it's time for the Blood & Injury tag, for this chapter and the next. I will leave a chapter summary in the end notes if you want to skip the chapter entirely. 
> 
> Switching tones completely, I'm including at the start of this chapter a photo of a wonderful Blue Spirit sculpture created for this fic by [pikachica](https://pikachica.tumblr.com) ([op](https://pikachica.tumblr.com/post/633281256397864964/a-small-charm-i-sculpted-and-painted-for))! Isn't it lovely? Feel free to swing by her blog and give the photo a reblog. 😊

* * *

Sokka finds the town to be a very refreshing change of pace, both from the recent dearth of human interaction and from the overwhelmingly massive bustle that was Ba Sing Se. There’s plenty of people to chat with—and chat he does—but Sokka doesn’t feel so much like a snowflake in a blizzard. 

They’d left Appa just outside of town and entered the marketplace on foot. Blue sticks close to his side at first, head moving from side to side, glancing behind them every so often. People keep staring curiously at the mask. 

Sokka ends up making a game of it, giving each person who asks a different explanation: 

“We’re on our way to a costume party!”

“Don’t tell anyone, but they’re under witness protection.”

“They lost a bet!”

“They were cursed by a demon to have a big mark over half their face.”

He feels bad about that last one; he’d stage-whispered it with a smile and a hand over one eye, referencing a popular Earth Kingdom tale he’d heard recently about a masked recluse haunting a music hall. The villager had laughed. Blue had flinched. Maybe that one accidentally hit close to the truth. 

Sokka doesn’t make any more jokes about the mask after that. 

He shops around, flitting from stall to stall. It’s important that he find the best possible deals, given their limited funds, but he’s also enjoying talking to the shopkeepers and wandering around. They’re in no rush. 

Soon, he has a new bag stuffed with essentials like a blanket, a small cookpot, and a bar of soap. He buys a bag of rice and tucks it inside the cookpot, hoping it’ll be enough for two people for a few days. Remembering the mountain-fed stream he’d spotted from the air, he also buys a waterskin. That ends up taking the longest, because he stands there looking at the waterskin and worrying about Katara until the shop-keeper pointedly clears their throat. 

When he forces himself back to reality, determined to focus on things he can control right now, he looks around and realizes Blue isn’t nearby. He hasn’t seen Blue in a while, actually. Maybe since running into that very aggressive cabbage merchant who absolutely refused to sell anything to Sokka. 

_Did Blue… leave?_ Sokka wonders, heart sinking. He doesn’t want to wait at the rendezvous point alone. He’s already going crazy with worry over his friends—there’s no way he’s going to survive several more days without at least the silent, stoic presence of his masked… traveling partner. Dai Li-evading partner? Appa-freeing partner? Whatever. All of the above. 

Sokka turns back to the shopkeeper who’d sold him the waterskin and asks: “Hey, have you seen anyone wearing a blue, kind of creepy mask?” 

They give him a weird look and shake their head. 

“Okay, thanks anyway.” Sokka makes a quick circuit of the market, but he doesn’t spot Blue anywhere. He even ducks inside a weapons store, but he finds no mysterious masked figures ogling any of the swords. 

Frustrated and hungry—that fruit had been good, but it wasn’t terribly filling—Sokka buys a cheap steamed bun from a vendor and finds a bench in a quiet square off the marketplace. The bun is gone in seconds (extremely pleasant, delicious seconds), and then he sits back with a sigh, drumming his fingers along the seat. 

What now? Does he keep trying to find Blue until the sun goes down, or does he accept that they probably found a better option? He tries to remember if Blue had given any sort of response to Sokka’s invitation to stay. 

Sokka sighs again as he stands, wishing he didn’t have to make another decision like this. He’s kind of tired of having to keep track of people. Or maybe he’s just feeling a little burnt out from the consequences. 

He starts to head back towards the market for one last search, but he detours toward a signpost he spots off to one side. Might as well check the news. 

He scans the posters for anything interesting. It’s a little slow going, as he hasn’t had much time or help learning the common Earth Kingdom script yet. A notice of a public comment period on some proposed building; an advertisement with tear-off coupons for a local massage parlor; a lost cat (that one is mostly a picture, so it’s pretty obvious); blah, blah, blah… Then he freezes. 

It’s Blue. 

There’s a picture of Blue on a poster, slightly crouched and with their dual broadswords crossed before them. Sokka has no trouble reading the characters emblazoned at the top; he’s seen that phrase before. _Wanted. Dead or alive._

Oh, spirits. 

Sokka tears the poster down and starts to read the details. “The Blue Spirit,” he mumbles aloud. “At least I got the name partly right.” 

But before he can read the rest, he’s startled by a hollow crashing sound. Whirling around, he sees movement in the shadows of an alleyway on the other side of the square, further away from the market. There’s a meaty _smack_ and a grunt, then a ringing clash that sounds like blades. 

Uh oh. 

Sokka hesitates for a moment, not wanting to run straight into danger (unlike _some_ people he knows). He doesn’t know the situation—it could be a couple of criminals squabbling over some stolen loot! 

Just then, a townswoman steps out from a doorway into the square. She glances over towards the alleyway, where a swordfight is now clearly underway by the sounds of it, and then she walks the other way without a second glance. 

That settles it. Walking away does _not_ feel right to Sokka. He quickly rolls up the poster and shoves it into his inner tunic pocket to read later. Drawing Boomerang, he hurries over to the alley and peeks around the corner to evaluate the situation. 

Ah, shit. 

Blue is in the alley. They’re wielding their dual swords expertly as they face off against a woman with a long, double-edged sword. Blue’s opponent is tall for an Earth Kingdom woman, taller than Sokka or Blue, and she’s using her height and reach to her advantage. Blue seems to be doing fine, but the fight doesn’t look like it’ll be over anytime soon. 

Sokka hopes he’s doing the right thing. From his spot around the corner, he throws Boomerang directly at the back of the woman’s head. No point in relying on the rebound when the first pass will do, especially as a surprise. The woman drops hard at the impact, sword falling from her limp fingers to clatter on the cobblestones. 

Blue looks up and meets Sokka’s eyes, swords crossed in front of them in a defensive position—looking exactly like the picture on the poster. 

Sokka gives a half-hearted wave. “Hi,” he says weakly. “What’s up?”

* * *

It’s… interesting, wandering around town with Sokka incognito. Zuko hasn’t had many chances to interact with other boys his age. (Or girls, really, not in recent years. And Azula’s friends hardly counted before that, either.) 

And to be honest, despite himself, Zuko is kind of enjoying it. Even though he can’t talk or reveal his identity. Or maybe _because_ he can’t reveal his identity; there’s no pressure to perform, no expectations as to his behavior or his loyalties. It’s like his time traveling alone, except he isn’t starving yet and he has a cheerful companion. 

Strolling through the town, reluctantly amused by Sokka’s increasingly strange stories about the mask, Zuko thinks maybe he could stay, just for a day or two. To rest. 

Then Sokka makes a comment about a large facial birthmark. Zuko startles out of his complacency at the fiction that’s so close to reality; Sokka’s even covering the correct half of his face. He can’t know. There’s no way he knows. Right? 

But Zuko’s wariness wins out. What was he thinking? He can’t stay here. 

The moment Sokka looks sufficiently distracted, Zuko slips away. He tries to ignore the tinge of regret at not saying goodbye. 

_It’s not like you could_ say _goodbye_ , he mocks himself nastily. _And he’ll probably be glad he won’t have to deal with you anymore._ Firmly in a bad mood, Zuko stomps around in search of a way back to Ba Sing Se. Maybe he can find a spot in a caravan, or just buy his own mount. He has some coins on him. Not enough for supplies _and_ a ride, but he’ll figure it out. He can stand not eating for a few days. 

His optimism, if you can call it that, evaporates quickly. It feels like he’s searched the entire town, and he hasn’t found a way back yet. No one heading to Ba Sing Se has any room for him. The ostrich-horse seller he’d found was charging a ridiculous price (and had a very professional-looking guard stationed inside the stables). And he’s hungry. Should’ve eaten more fruit. 

He’d eaten quite a few, actually, while picking them early this morning. The one he ate to shut Sokka up, alarmed by his threat to take off the mask and force-feed him (which Zuko belatedly realized was a joke), came from the pile he’d collected for Sokka. 

Gathering the fruit for Appa had been reflex; Zuko’s used to taking care of his animals. The fruit for himself was survival instinct. And the fruit for Sokka? 

He’s pondering this stupid detail as he cuts through an alley, hung up on deciphering his own intentions yet again, when the attack comes. He almost doesn’t react in time. 

Diving to one side, he hears the whistle of a blade scything down where he’d been a moment before. He kicks out at an empty barrel at the bottom of a stack, toppling the pile into his attacker’s path and gaining himself a moment to reach for his swords. 

He doesn’t quite have them drawn when the woman calmly leaps a barrel and lands a heavy kick to his thigh. _That’s going to bruise later_ , he thinks with a groan. Then they’re clashing swords, and he focuses on the fight. 

She’s highly skilled with her sword. Zuko finds himself hard-pressed to locate a gap in her defenses, particularly the non-lethal one he’d prefer. He wants to know who she is and why she targeted him, and he can’t do that if she’s dead. They trade rapid blows, not moving very far in the tight quarters. 

Then there’s a dull thud, and she falls to the ground. Zuko readies himself for a new opponent, swords up. It’s… Sokka. 

“Hi,” Sokka says with a wave and none of his usual exuberance. “What’s up?” 

Zuko blinks a few times in surprise before straightening from his stance. First things first. He sheathes one sword and kneels cautiously by the woman’s head, reaching out with his free hand to feel for a pulse. Still alive, good. 

He spies a coil of rope hanging neatly from the woman’s belt and begins to unravel it. 

“What happened?” Sokka asks, his weird flying weapon in his hand. Zuko hadn’t noticed him retrieving it. Had it flown back to him? 

_I have to ask him how that works_ , Zuko thinks before he remembers that he’ll never be able to ask. He answers Sokka with a shrug and sheathes his other sword to begin tying the woman’s hands in front of her with the rope. It’s standard to tie them behind, but Zuko prefers to be able to see her hands—he figures it’ll be harder for her to stealthily untie herself this way. 

“Where’d you go, anyway?” Sokka sounds more serious than usual, not a hint of friendliness in his voice. “Were you leaving?” 

Surprised, Zuko glances up from the final knot he’s tying. Sokka’s eyeing him with an unreadable expression. Zuko may as well be honest. He _was_ leaving; he had no obligation to stay. And there’s no reason Sokka would get upset about it. He gives Sokka a nod and watches carefully for a reaction. 

Sokka’s shoulders droop a little, and he looks down. “Oh,” he says. “I thought so.” 

Zuko now feels a lot worse about sneaking away. But the woman on the ground shifts a little, and he returns his attention to securing her. _Emotions later_ , he tells himself. _...or never._

Sokka comes to stand next to where Zuko’s crouched by the woman, glancing between them. “Did she attack you?” he asks. 

Zuko nods. 

“Why?”

A shrug. _I wish I knew_ , Zuko thinks. He points at the woman, who’s starting to blink her eyes open. _Ask her?_

Sokka nods as though he understands. 

They both wait for the woman’s gaze to focus. She glares when she sees Zuko and tenses against her bindings. 

“Who are you?” Sokka asks in a firm voice. “Why did you attack, uh, them?” He gestures awkwardly towards Zuko. 

Surprisingly, the woman laughs. It’s a light, almost musical laugh that contrasts sharply with the derisive smile on her face. “Who wouldn’t, for that kind of money?” she replies. 

Shit. She must be a bounty hunter. Or an opportunist. 

Zuko sees Sokka’s free hand come up to pat his own chest. What’s he doing? 

“What do you mean?” Sokka asks her. 

She rolls her eyes. “You’re not exactly blending in,” she says, addressing Zuko. “I’m surprised you’re walking around in that getup.” 

He grinds his teeth, wishing he could respond but knowing she’s right, anyway. _I’m an idiot. Why did I come into town like this?_ He shoots to his feet, torn between pacing and staying close to the bounty hunter. 

“It’s a high enough bounty to tempt anyone to give it a try,” the woman continues, turning back to Sokka. “If you needed the money and you saw that poster”—Sokka’s face twitches at this—“then you’d be after him, too.” 

“Not me,” Sokka replies quickly. “He’s my friend. I wouldn’t do that to him, and I won’t let you do it either.” 

Zuko jumps, then turns fully to stare at Sokka in shock. _I’m his friend?_ he thinks wonderingly. _So soon? And why?_

Sokka stares back for a heartbeat before glancing away, for some reason looking a little guilty. 

_Maybe he’s lying… maybe he’s about to double-cross me._ Zuko tries to make sense of the situation. 

Either Sokka has, astoundingly, come to consider Zuko a friend and will stand by his side with the staunch loyalty Zuko knows he possesses (in which case Zuko must decide if he wants to try this friends thing)—or Sokka is just trying to lull Zuko into a false sense of security before turning on him (in which case Zuko must plan to avoid… that). The latter doesn’t really sound like something Sokka would do, but it _does_ sound like something that would happen to Zuko… 

Distracted by all these damn possibilities and decisions let alone the novelty of being called someone’s friend, Zuko is barely paying any attention to the conversation anymore. 

“Your friend, huh? Well, well. I bet you’re wanted too.” 

Sokka snorts. “By the Fire Nation, sure. Not the Earth Kingdom.” 

“Fire Nation gold shines just as bright,” is her matter-of-fact reply. 

Sokka glares at her and takes a step closer. “You’re not turning h— _them_ in to the Fire Nation. Not while I’m here.” 

“Oh, I don’t think that will be an issue.” Her smile grows sharper. “Dead or alive, I believe it said.” 

It’s only Zuko’s honed reflexes that save Sokka from getting stabbed in the gut. 

He shoves Sokka aside as the woman lunges forward, a dagger suddenly in her bound hands, and the blade slices up his own side instead. Already off balance, her momentum topples Zuko onto his back with a _thump_. She’s on top of him, raising the dagger above his chest, and he won’t be able to react in time, his swords are beneath him, he’s going to die here in an alleyway—

Then the triumphant look in her eyes disappears as they roll back into her head. She falls limp again, slumping down on top of Zuko. Behind her, Sokka’s holding his weapon up, eyes wide. 

Zuko doesn’t move, breathing raggedly despite his training. They stare at each other for a few seconds. 

Then Sokka sheathes his weapon and kicks the dagger away. He roughly drags the woman off to one side and halfway down the alleyway, far enough that they’ll have plenty of warning before another attack, then returns and drops to his knees at Zuko’s side. “Are you okay?” he asks, words tangling in a rush to get out of his mouth. “Did she get you? Are you hurt?” His hands hover over Zuko, not quite touching. 

Zuko goes to sit up and wave him off, but he barely gets his shoulders off the ground before he’s dropping back down with a moan. _Looks like she got me worse than I thought._ He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his left hand to the blazing pain on his right side. The pain is worst along his ribs, but he can tell the wound extends down past his waist. Vaguely, he wonders how he’s going to be able to examine it without a mirror. 

“Shit,” he hears Sokka say. “Shit. Let me look, okay? Can I take a look?” 

He feels hands pulling his away, then tugging his already wet tunic out from his sash. Sokka unwraps it quickly but peels the fabric from the wound with care. Then he hisses in a breath. Zuko keeps his eyes shut, childishly not wanting to look. 

There’s sudden pressure against his side, and he fails to hold in a moan at the accompanying spike of pain. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Sokka says breathlessly. “We need to get you to a doctor.” 

Zuko opens his eyes at that, shaking his head as firmly as he can without moving much. It still hurts. He bites his lip. 

“Blue, this doesn’t look good. You’re bleeding a lot.” Sokka takes his hands away for a moment, which hurts, and then presses them down again, which _also_ hurts. “It doesn’t look like it got deep enough in your abdomen to hit any organs. But it’s a bad slice, especially along your ribs. You need to get this closed up, fast.” 

Zuko lifts his left hand—his glove is soaked with blood, he notices absently—and points jerkily to his mask, then in the general direction of the bounty hunter. 

Sokka frowns at him. “You think they’d turn you in. Not everyone’s like that, Blue!” 

He just shakes his head again, unwilling to take the chance. _I don’t want to die in prison_ , he thinks. His head’s swimming. Oh, he’s still shaking his head. Why’s he shaking his head? _At least I did something good at the end. Would you be proud of me, Uncle?_

Sokka’s hands are still pressed firmly against Zuko’s side, but the sound of blood dripping to the ground is loud in Zuko’s ears. 

“I don’t know how to help you, Blue,” Sokka says, eyes darting between the mask and the wound. “I’m not letting you die. Not after you just saved my life. So either let me take you to a doctor or tell me how I can help you!” His voice raises in desperation. 

Feeling a little unfocused, Zuko wonders at the concern in Sokka’s face. _Does he really think I’m his friend?_

“Blue!” Sokka yells in his face. 

Zuko jerks, then hisses at the pain. He struggles to think. Okay. No doctor. Bad surface wound. Bleeding. Need to stop bleeding. ...shit. He can only think of one option now. And it’s not going to end well for him. 

He reaches over with his left hand and grasps one of Sokka’s wrists gently. It feels strange. He’s not used to touching anyone outside of combat, except for Uncle. 

He suddenly wishes he could apologize, or explain, or beg Sokka to just leave him here instead of turning him in or killing him outright—but he doesn’t have the breath for it. Every inhale and every exhale hurts, and he’s going to need as much breath as possible for what he’s about to do. 

So he just holds onto Sokka’s wrist for a few seconds and wishes this didn’t have to happen. Sokka stares at his hand, looking confused and a little wild-eyed. 

Zuko tugs gently, pulling Sokka’s hand away, then the other, ignoring Sokka’s protests. He takes a very deep breath in despite the pain, trying to empty his mind. 

Then he grits his teeth, wills an extremely hot, carefully controlled, _tiny_ flame to his fingertips, and slaps it to the bottom of the wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Chapter summary:_ Once in town, Sokka buys supplies, realizes Blue has disappeared, and then finds a Blue Spirit wanted poster. Meanwhile, Zuko fails to find a ride back to Ba Sing Se and is attacked by a bounty hunter in an alleyway. Zuko ends up taking an attack meant for Sokka, resulting in a bad injury to his side. Afraid seeing a doctor will ultimately land him in prison, Zuko decides to partly blow his cover by performing an emergency medical procedure with his firebending. _End chapter summary._
> 
> Whew! How was that?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks. Posting this one a bit late today. It's Election Day in America and things are tense. If you are as anxious as I am, may this update take your mind off things for a few minutes. 
> 
> Anyway, reminder that the Blood & Injury tag remains in effect for this chapter. I will include a chapter summary in the end notes. Additionally, the gender identity/pronouns theme I mentioned in my chapter one notes is relevant here; please be warned there is language implying that there are only two genders and that gender == sex. This idea is disputed in more detail in a later chapter. 
> 
> I think there were other things I wanted to say, but I can't think of them now.

Sokka is freaking out. 

To summarize: Blue disappeared. Sokka found a wanted poster for Blue. A bounty hunter attacked Blue, then tried to kill Sokka. Blue saved Sokka and immediately started bleeding out. Blue is a  _ firebender  _ and is currently  _ burning their own stab wound what the actual fuck _ —

Sokka is not freaking out. 

He can’t afford to be freaking out. Freak out later. Think about it later. Act now. 

He hears the awful sounds Blue is making, the bitten off whimpers that should really be screams, but he doesn’t listen to them. He recognizes the tang of blood and the unforgettable smell of burning flesh, but he sets them aside. He’s going to have nightmares about this later, but he refuses to let it turn into one of those extra-horrible nightmare moments that he’ll regret forever. 

Hyper focused and forcefully feeling nothing, Sokka places his hand over Blue’s bloody, shaking one. It’s hot to the touch. Sokka can feel the intense heat blazing from the outstretched fingers despite the fact that it’s the smallest flame he’s ever seen from a firebender. 

He grabs Blue’s free hand and grips it tightly, drawing the arm out of the way of Blue’s injured side. Then he guides the burning hot hand into a straighter path along the wound. 

Blue’s breathing is fast and harsh, but even. A soft sound of pain escapes with nearly every exhale, and their free hand clutches Sokka’s desperately. Unable to find anything helpful to say, Sokka just grips back just as tightly. 

He makes himself watch closely, carefully tracking the progress of the burning— _ cauterizing _ , Katara’s voice tells him,  _ I read about it in Gran Gran’s old medical book, in the Emergency Procedures section _ —and moving Blue’s hand along when he thinks the current spot is closed up enough. He wishes now that he hadn’t told Katara to stop yapping about gruesome wounds she’d never have the opportunity to treat. It would have been useful to know more, now. As it is, he’s just guessing. He prays his guess is good enough. 

Finally, it’s done. 

He pulls Blue’s hand away from their ribs. Blue immediately lets the flame die, and the heat emanating from their fingertips dissipates nearly as quickly. Their breath loses its rhythm and devolves into gasps as they lie there, shuddering. 

They’re still holding onto Sokka’s other hand. He doesn’t plan to let go before they do. 

“It’s over,” he tells Blue unnecessarily, trying to distract or reassure them. “You did it. You’re okay.” Sokka guides Blue’s shaky hand—the one that had moments ago controlled super concentrated fire—to rest on their chest. 

“Let’s try to slow that breathing down, okay? Can you match me? In, and out. In, and out. That’s it. In, and out.” Sokka repeats this mantra more and more slowly as he takes a moment to examine the damage. 

It looks awful. Shiny and puffy, encrusted with blackened blood. The burn extends from maybe the sixth rib, a little below the armpit, down to just above the hip bone. 

This might have saved Blue’s life, but it doesn’t end here. Sokka knows Blue will need further treatment.  _ Actual _ treatment, ideally by an  _ actual  _ professional. What he’s not sure about is whether he’s willing to knock Blue over the head and drag them to a doctor against their very clear wishes. 

He gives Blue’s chest a light pat. “You’re breathing great, now, much better. How… how are you feeling?” He waits for an answer, feeling stupid for asking, but then he remembers Blue can’t answer open-ended questions anyway. “Are you in a lot of pain?” That question doesn’t feel any smarter. 

“I mean—agh, I mean…” He needs to pull himself together. Blue still needs his help. “I’m sure you’re in a lot of pain. Here’s what I think we should do.” He pulls a plan out of nowhere, the urgency of the last few minutes still racing through his veins. 

“I’m going to go find a doctor—stay still, you idiot!” Guess that solves that decision. Blue is just going to hurt themself further trying to stay away from strangers. “I’m going to go find a doctor to  _ talk _ to for advice, and also get Appa, because I don’t think you’re walking out of here.” Sokka sends a hard look towards the bounty hunter, who’s still motionless on the ground. “But I can’t leave you here with her. So I’ll take her with me, somehow, and hide you here, and uh, yeah.” 

So it’s not the best plan ever.  _ Can you blame me? _ Sokka thinks wryly. Ah, there’s the humor. Humor is good. Humor can buoy you past any old near-death experience. 

He’s not sure how much Blue heard or comprehended, but after another minute they give him a weak nod. 

“Okay, bud. Let’s see what we can do about giving you some cover here, huh?” Sokka gives Blue’s hand a little squeeze, which apparently draws Blue’s attention to the fact that yes, they are still holding hands. Blue drops his like it burns—hm, that’s maybe not the most appropriate comparison right now—and immediately grunts as the quick movement no doubt jostles their wound. 

Sokka makes quick work of picking up the scattered empty barrels and arranging them in a short stack around Blue. Anyone looking closely between the barrels will likely notice a flash of Blue’s startlingly pale torso or the blue of the mask, but it’s the best camouflage Sokka can do on short notice. 

By the time he’s done, the bounty hunter is waking up again. Damn _.  _ He’d intended to search her for more weapons first. 

Her eyes don’t focus after a few seconds this time, though. Instead, her head lolls to one side and she vomits a thin stream of bile. That’s probably not good. 

Sokka approaches her warily, Boomerang at the ready. She’s staring fuzzily into the distance, brow furrowed. Sokka nudges her with a foot, and she rolls her head back to look up at him. 

“Who’re you?” she slurs. 

“Who am I? You just attacked me!” 

“Huh?” She closes her eyes, apparently uninterested in the response. 

Maybe she’s faking it, but Sokka doesn’t think so. Who throws up as a pretense? 

He returns to the barrels, crouching up close so he can see Blue’s mask. “Hey. Blue?” 

Blue tilts their head just a little. 

“I’m going to go find help now. I’m taking her with me.” 

Sokka stares into the eye holes of the mask, wishing for the umpteenth time that Blue didn’t have this weird privacy obsession. He stubbornly shoves aside thoughts of “hidden identity” and “wanted poster.” Later. 

He gets a weird feeling that Blue’s looking back at him. He could be wrong, of course, and maybe it doesn’t really matter either way. But he tries to hold his gaze steady and project calm in his voice. “I’ll be back soon.” 

Blue doesn’t react. 

“Okay?” 

The mask tilts slightly away from him. 

Sokka frowns, wondering what’s going through Blue’s head. Maybe they’re delirious with the pain. Or maybe… He thinks of a hand clinging to his, the suppressed sounds of pain, the vehement refusal to trust an unknown doctor. The fire burning steadily at Blue’s fingertips. 

“Blue. I  _ will _ be back soon. Alone,” he says firmly. Then, softer: “It’s going to be alright.” 

Finally, Blue gives him a tiny nod. Good enough. Sokka can work on the potential abandonment issues later. For now, Sokka’s going to help the person who’d taken a knife for him, probably saving his life. 

Sokka returns to the bounty hunter, who isn’t looking any better. He manages to haul her up to her feet, though she retches some more once upright. Sokka doesn’t feel all that sympathetic. 

With one more prayer that she’s not going to try and stab him again, Sokka ducks under one of her arms and begins to half-lead, half-drag her out of the alley. Maybe he can find a prison doctor to take her in—two birds, and all that. 

* * *

Zuko floats in the pain for a while. Pain’s an old friend. Rather than let it smother him, he knows how to wrap it around himself like a blanket, how to carry his pain on his back and keep going. 

But to be honest, the current circumstances are a little more traumatic than even Zuko is used to. 

(Not that this is the most painful thing that’s ever happened to him. No, his Agni Kai with his father still holds that claim. Father would probably be pleased to hear his lesson had such an impact.) 

He just lies still and breathes. Breathe in; feel the whitehot burn as tortured skin stretches tight against his ribs. Breathe out; feel the dull ache in his bones, in his bruised leg, in his guts. 

He isn’t surprised that it doesn’t hurt more. The skin around the wound and on the edges is excruciatingly sensitive, but the very center of the burn doesn’t feel much of anything. He’s felt that before; he knows what it means. 

Hopefully the infection won’t kill him. Hopefully he doesn’t have to debride the wound. He hates hoping, but it’s all he can do. At least this scar will be easy to hide. 

As he gains some semblance of control over the pain, a series of thoughts begins to pound a nervous beat in his head:  _ Run, run, run. Time to go. Get out of here. Run.  _

Sokka had said he’d come back. Had told the woman he wouldn’t turn Zuko in—but that was when he didn’t know anything about Zuko’s bounty, that was before he saw the  _ firebending _ . There’s no way Sokka could possibly trust him now. 

And yet, he’d helped Zuko cauterize his wound without a word. He’d hidden him away in this alleyway. He’d  _ held Zuko’s hand _ and hadn’t even laughed at him for it. 

Maybe he meant it. Maybe… maybe it’s going to be okay. Zuko feels a quiet, painful spark of hope glowing in his chest. His usual pessimism threatens to snuff it out, but this time… this time, he shelters it. He holds onto that spark and feeds it like he would a real one, keeping it alive. 

_ Might as well hope _ , he decides, feeling reckless.  _ No one needs to know.  _

Besides. His side damn well  _ hurts _ . It’d be really nice if he could just lie still for a little while. He can always fight his way out of the worst case scenario later… 

He doesn’t notice drifting off. Or maybe he passed out. Either way, he’s suddenly waking from his stupor, not sure what drew his attention. He holds his breath, listening hard. 

A figure drops down beside his hiding place and peers in. 

“Hey, Blue.” It’s Sokka. “Think you can make it to the courtyard? Appa’s here.” 

Zuko doesn’t know what to do with the relief that sweeps through him. He watches Sokka unstack and restack the barrels off to one side, hardly daring to believe that it’s really going to be this simple. 

“This isn’t going to be fun,” Sokka says, squatting by his side with a concerned expression. “I can try to carry you…” 

_ Nope, no way _ , Zuko thinks immediately. He struggles to sit up, reluctantly grateful for Sokka’s arm around his back helping him. The burning in his side flares up immediately as he moves, and he feels stupidly weak. Frustrated, he doesn’t wait long for the pain to ebb before he tries to stand. Then he’s embarrassed but even more grateful for Sokka’s support, as he keeps Zuko upright when his knees give out. 

“Easy,” Sokka tells him, letting Zuko lean on him. “Give it a minute.” 

Zuko does, taking steady breaths as he waits again for the pain to recede. 

“Here, let’s take your tunic off all the way while you’re up.” Sokka’s already slipping it from Zuko’s shoulders. “Don’t want it flapping around and contaminating the wound further.” He drapes the bloody, ripped fabric over one arm. “How are you feeling now?”

The pain’s a little better, but Zuko’s honestly not sure how he’s going to make it to the square. He takes a step and wobbles precariously. Doesn’t help that he led with the one that woman had viciously kicked. 

Sokka gives a sigh then and says apologetically, “Okay, you can hate me for this later, but for now please don’t hit me.” 

Wha—

Then Zuko’s world goes white with pain again as he’s swept into a new position. He refocuses a few seconds later, by which time they’re already moving down the alleyway. He’s in Sokka’s arms. Like a  _ child _ . Spirits, this is humiliating. He lets out a frustrated growl before he can stop it. 

“Quiet, you,” Sokka says with a trace of amusement. “This makes the most sense. You’re injured and shouldn’t be over-exerting yourself. Deal with it.” 

Zuko would love to curse him out and demand to be put down, but, one, he still can’t talk, and two, well. He  _ is _ injured. So he grumbles wordlessly and thanks Agni that Uncle isn’t here to see this. He’d never hear the end of it. 

It feels extremely weird to be carried. Much weirder than touching Sokka’s wrist or even holding his hand. As embarrassing as it is, Zuko feels almost… comforted by it, despite himself. It’s probably just that anything feels nice compared to the wound in his side. 

Plus, it’s kind of funny listening to Sokka swear as he tries to walk up Appa’s tail while carrying Zuko. Their progress is faltering and probably a bad idea altogether, but Appa holds very still, and Sokka eventually staggers up onto his back. 

He lowers Zuko gently to Appa’s fur and sits down with an exaggerated exhale. “Whew! That was tough.” Sokka eyes him. “You don’t weigh as much as I expected, though. You’re kinda skinny. I may have to force-feed you after all.” 

Zuko finds the energy to give Sokka a crude hand gesture he’d picked up during his Earth Kingdom travels. 

It makes Sokka laugh. “Well, glad to see you’re feeling a little better!” He pulls out a small jar from his bag. “Speaking of. The doctor said you should drink this one right away. It’s to help prevent infection.” 

Sokka helps Zuko sit up part way and waits for Zuko to shift his mask up, but Zuko snatches the jar before Sokka can hold it to his lips. He throws it back, coughing at the bitter flavor. The coughing is hell on his side, and he curls in on himself with a groan. He barely notices when Sokka lowers him back down and grabs hold of the arm on his good side. 

“Appa, yip yip—but gentle, okay?” 

Appa lows quietly and lifts off smoothly. They rise above the village and are on their way with barely a jostle. 

“Alright, we’ll be back soon and then I can finish treating your side,” Sokka tells him. Somehow he must anticipate the questions running through Zuko’s mind because he continues: “I’ll tell you all the details later, including what happened with that woman, but for now I think you’d better just rest. Okay, man?” 

Zuko nods, ready to shut his eyes with the exhaustion suddenly pressing his body into Appa’s fur, but then he catches Sokka’s wince. He tilts his head to look more directly at Sokka. 

“...yeah, that reminds me.” Sokka frowns. “I noticed you, uh, startled at what I said to the bounty hunter back there, and uh, I just wanted to apologize.” 

What’s he talking about? Zuko cocks his head to one side in that way he knows Sokka will interpret as a question. 

“You know.” Sokka rubs the back of his head. “When I was saying you’re my friend? I just misspoke.” 

Oh. So he didn’t mean it. Zuko tries to shove down the disappointment. 

“Yeah, um. I didn’t mean to assume anything, but I did, and it just slipped out. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal, but it obviously was to you—and that’s okay! I mean. Damn.” Sokka groans, shaking his head. “I’ve been trying to be better about this sort of thing. So, I’m sorry. Will you tell me your correct pronouns?” 

...What. 

Zuko’s suddenly concerned that he’s going into shock. He’s clearly hearing things. Why else would Sokka go from talking about (a nonexistent) friendship to asking about grammar? 

Sokka blinks at Zuko. 

Zuko blinks at Sokka. 

“Blue?” 

Zuko needs a better way to express  _ what the fuck _ than cocking his head to one side very, very slowly, but that’s the only thing he can think of right now. So that’s what he does. 

“Uh, that’s what you were reacting to, right? I accidentally said ‘he,’ and you jumped to like, Appa height.” 

Zuko shakes his head.  _ What the fuck? _ he mouths to himself behind the mask. 

Sokka looks confused. “Oh. Okay. Uh. Well, I guess my question still stands. Should I keep using they/them?” 

He shakes his head again, baffled. Sokka had been using ‘they’ to refer to him before? Is this a Water Tribe thing? 

“Alright. Uh. I feel like it’d be rude for me to guess…” 

_ Do I look like a woman to him? He  _ just  _ saw my chest.  _ Exasperated, Zuko points at Sokka. 

“Me? I consider myself to be one hundred percent ma-male,” Sokka jokes. “So, I go by ‘he.’” 

Zuko flips his hand over so it’s palm-up and splays his fingers. 

“Oh, you use he/him too?” 

A nod. 

“Okay, got it. That’s good to know.” Sokka grins at him. “Guess it wasn’t a big deal for me to say ‘he,’ then, huh?” Then he frowns. “But then why… never mind. Not important right now.” 

Zuko doesn’t know what just happened. But he’s too tired to think about it, so he just sets the strange misunderstanding aside and closes his eyes. His side is throbbing like hell, but he’s exhausted. Maybe he can get some sleep. 

Right as he’s drifting off, a thought floats by:  _ Does this mean he  _ does  _ think we’re friends? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Chapter summary:_ Sokka helps Blue with the emergency procedure for his injury, then takes the bounty hunter away as he goes in search of a doctor. Zuko hesitantly allows himself to hope that Sokka will keep his word and return to help him, rather than abandoning him or selling him out. Returning with medicine, Sokka carries Blue onto Appa and begins to take him back to the rendezvous point. Sokka apologizes for slipping up and assuming Blue's pronouns are he/him, to which Zuko reacts with confusion, as he was taught a strict, birth-assigned gender binary growing up. Zuko wonders if they are friends. _End chapter summary._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka helps Blue take care of his wound and maybe opens up a ~~lot~~ little. 
> 
> Or: A chance for Sokka to get some things off his chest and for Zuko to shut up and learn something!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my lovely, wonderful readers: I am reading all your comments (and usually grinning like a loon as I do so), and I appreciate you all so much! I don't always have the time or energy to respond, but please know your comments and kudos mean a lot to me. I hope you're all doing well. ❤️ 
> 
> Warning: there is additional mention of blood and the injury in this chapter, though much less so than in the last two. After this, the injury will continue to be mentioned, but not graphically.

Sokka watches Blue sleep. He think’s Blue’s sleeping, anyway. He  _ hopes  _ so, because otherwise Blue is completely aware that Sokka’s been staring at him for the whole ride back. And given Blue’s distrustfulness, he’d probably think Sokka was keeping watch on him or something. 

_ Shouldn’t you be? _ Part of Sokka suggests. He is a  _ firebender _ for La’s sake. 

So was Fire Sage Shyu. And Jeong Jeong. And that old guy who fought Zhao at the Spirit Oasis and Azula in that ghost town. Though that last guy is apparently Prince Zuko’s uncle, so he can’t be that great. 

Sokka heaves out a sigh and flops onto his back, staring up at the passing clouds. Childishly, he wishes he could revert to the mindset of “good guys and bad guys,” where anyone from the Fire Nation is automatically his enemy. It’s so much simpler to think that way. But he knows it’s not right. 

So, Blue is a firebender. That doesn’t mean he’s a Fire Nation soldier or spy. It doesn’t even mean he’s really Fire Nation; Sokka is old enough to know invasions sometimes leave life behind in addition to death. So really, this tells Sokka very little about Blue. 

And _that’s_ the core of the issue. Sokka doesn’t know anything about Blue. He doesn’t know Blue’s intentions. He doesn’t know where Blue’s from or how he learned to use that ridiculously cool pair of blades. He doesn’t know Blue’s name or even what he looks like (except for his torso, now; pale, lean, and with a blistering, angry burn down one side—not exactly enough to feel like you know a guy). 

The wanted poster portrayed Blue in his mask, so the issuing authorities don’t know what he looks like either. It should have some information, though. Like what crimes he’s wanted for. 

Sokka sits up and, with a glance at Blue, turns his back. He pulls the poster out from his tunic, now a little worse for the wear. 

It takes him a bit to decipher the Earth Kingdom text, and there’s a few words he’s not sure about, but he understands enough to tell something’s off. The poster says “dead or alive.” Now, Sokka’s not sure how he feels about that concept in general—granting anyone the right to kill an accused criminal on sight—but as far as he can tell, there’s no charges listed here that would in any sense justify a death sentence. 

Petty theft. Armed robbery. Is that all? 

He reads and rereads the poster, but there’s very little information. It names a criminal known as the Blue Spirit, who’s wanted for the aforementioned crimes and is extremely dangerous. Suspected non-bender, it says, which Sokka knows isn’t correct—interesting, though, that Blue has been consistently hiding his firebending. 

Another strange thing is that the listed bounty is pretty sizable. So someone wants Blue captured or killed pretty badly. It can’t just be for the theft. 

_ I wonder what he stole _ , Sokka muses, side-tracked. He’s re-evaluating his impression of Blue. Based on his behavior and his physique, he’s probably around Sokka’s age. Before, he had certainly been mysterious, even suspicious, but now Sokka knows he’s a  _ criminal _ . Well, assuming he actually is guilty. He’s definitely wanted, at least, by the law—wait. 

Who does want him, specifically? Sokka hadn’t paid much attention to that part. He scans the poster again. It says the bounty was issued under the authority of a Colonel Shinu of Harbor Town in the Western Earth Kingdom. Harbor Town, why does that sound familiar? 

Oh, right! That’s the town where he almost died in a storm with that grumpy old fisherman. And then he and Katara got sick right after that. Sokka frowns, remembering how cagey Aang had been about where he’d gone for help. The frozen frog was disgusting enough to distract Sokka at the time, but when he’d pressed Aang for details later, the airbender had deflected and run away from all questions. Typical. 

But Harbor Town. Sokka doesn’t remember a big military presence there, but there must be if it’s the base for this colonel. Too bad it’s halfway across the Earth Kingdom. Sokka won’t be getting any answers from that side anytime soon—which means he’s going to have to get them from Blue. 

Yeah, that’s going to go great. 

He sighs and folds the poster, his fingers worrying absently with the creases. 

How did he get here, anyway? One moment Sokka’s living a cushy life of forced ignorance in Ba Sing Se, and the next he’s helping save the life of a firebending, wanted criminal. 

He turns back around and checks on Blue. Still out, or resting.  _ Can I trust him?  _

_ He was freeing Appa. And he saved my life.  _

_ But he won’t speak to me, and he’s a firebender, and he’s essentially sentenced to death.  _

Sokka rubs at his face, tired and conflicted. He wonders what his dad would do in this situation. He also wonders if his dad has ever met a firebender he didn’t immediately attack. A few months ago, Sokka hadn’t. And now… 

Now, things are complicated. 

At least Sokka’s sure of one thing. He owes something to Blue; a life debt, one of the elders back home might’ve called it. His dad would respect Blue’s honorable actions and expect Sokka to behave honorably in return. And that’s what Sokka intends to do: he’ll help Blue recover and won’t turn him in to the authorities. 

_ But on one condition. _ Sokka stares grimly at the grinning mask as he turns the folded poster over and over in his hands.  _ I need some answers.  _

* * *

Zuko startles awake at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. He flinches, bringing his arms up to protect his head, and tries to roll to his feet. The blazing pain in his side stops him before he gets very far. 

“Easy, Blue, it’s just me,” Sokka’s voice filters in through a haze of pain. “You with me?” 

Zuko nods tightly. He darts a look around without moving. They’re inside the cave, the ceiling nearly close enough to touch. Appa must have walked in with Zuko still asleep on his back. 

“I need to treat your wound,” Sokka tells him. “Are you ready to be carried again?” 

Beneath the mask, Zuko makes a face. He really doesn’t want to be carried, but he’s trying to be smarter for Uncle’s sake. Uncle will already be upset when he learns of Zuko’s injury—Zuko can at least take care of this one better than he ever used to. 

So he nods reluctantly, and Sokka gently slides his arms beneath his back and thighs. It’s clearly difficult to lift him from this position, but Sokka manages after a couple of false starts. He lifts with his legs, too, which is smart. Good form. Zuko thinks about this rather than the fact that he’s once again being held in Sokka’s arms in a very undignified way. 

They make it down Appa’s tail and into the smaller part of the cave. Sokka sets him down and begins unpacking things from his bulging bag without a word. Jars, bandages, a cooking pot, a square of cloth. Zuko watches listlessly. He’s not looking forward to this part, but he knows the wound has to be cleaned. 

Sokka mutters something about water and walks out with the cook pot. Zuko’s starting to drift off again by the time he’s back. Sokka stands awkwardly in the entryway, his fingers tapping against the pot. 

“So, uh. I need to boil this water.” He glances to the ashes and remaining logs of last night’s fire. “Um. Can you..?” 

Oh. Zuko’s surprised that Sokka isn’t in total denial about the whole firebending thing. And what’s more, he’s asking Zuko to use it! 

“I didn’t buy any spark rocks because I thought you already had some. But, you don’t, do you.” 

Zuko shakes his head, though he doesn’t think it was really a question. It had been dumb to light the fire yesterday without preparing an explanation, but luckily Sokka had made an assumption and moved on. Clearly he’s put the pieces together now. 

Zuko doesn’t look away from Sokka as he slowly stretches out his arm to the logs, watching warily for a reaction. Sokka’s gaze is trained on Zuko’s hand. Careful to keep the flame small, he forms a gentle ball of fire in his palm and coaxes it to catch the dry wood alight. The instant one of the logs has a strong enough flame, he extinguishes his own and pulls his arm back to his side. 

Sokka’s face is forcibly blank as he says wryly, “Well, that’s handy.” He sets up the cook pot’s suspension and hangs the pot over the growing fire before returning to kneel at Zuko’s side. “So first I have to clean it. I washed my hands in the river, and I’ll use boiled water on you. I mean, it won’t be boiling when I put it on you.” Sokka frowns suddenly. “Would that hurt you?” 

Zuko tries not to flinch at the thought of Sokka dumping a pot of boiling water on him. He nods emphatically. 

“Right, sorry, it just occurred to me that maybe, with your bending—anyway.” Sokka waves away the thought. “The doctor said to clean it first, and then I’ve got two different kinds of… paste things. One for now, one for later after it’s healed more.” 

Zuko nods again to show he’s listening. 

“I found a clinic only a few streets away. Good thing, too, because that woman was in bad shape. Concussed, the doctor said. I told her what happened.” Sokka must notice Zuko stiffen at that, so he hurries to explain. “Not all of it. I told her how she attacked me and—and someone I was with, and how I hit her twice with Boomerang.” 

Boomerang? Is that what that thing is called? 

“She wanted to send her assistant to get a guard. But I asked her to wait until after I’d left.” He winces. “She was pretty suspicious about that. I didn’t really have a good reason why my injured fr—why you couldn’t come to the clinic for urgent treatment, and I  _ may _ have come up with a pretty unrealistic story about how you ended up with a burn after getting attacked with a dagger…” 

Zuko resists the urge to hit his forehead with his palm. For one, movement hurts. For another, he does owe Sokka for obeying his wishes and not taking him to a doctor. 

“But eventually she gave me some supplies and instructions.” Sokka shrugs. “I guess she cared more about getting you treatment than she cared about getting a real explanation.” He turns a thoughtful look on Zuko. “You know, even if she knew the whole story, I have a feeling she wouldn’t have turned you in.” 

They sit in silence for the rest of the time it takes for the water to boil. Zuko’s wondering if Sokka’s right. He thinks back, guiltily, to Song. She had empathized with him over their burn scars. Would she have still helped them if she knew that they were Fire Nation, that they were firebenders? 

He thinks about the dusty, struggling town where he’d rescued that boy from those Earth Kingdom soldiers. Even after saving Lee—twice—helping out at the farm, and sleeping in their barn, Lee and his mother had instantly despised him when they learned his true identity. The whole crowd had flipped from rooting for him to driving him out of town. 

Maybe it was his status as Fire Nation royalty that was too much to overlook. Or maybe the world really just hates the Fire Nation and everyone in it.  _ And for good reason _ , he thinks traitorously, surprising himself. 

He’s saved from having to pursue that thought further by the water boiling. Sokka is using Zuko’s discarded tunic to grab the hot handle and move the pot off the fire. He sees Zuko looking and smiles sheepishly. “It’s not totally unsalvageable, but it’d need a serious wash and a lot of sewing to be wearable. We might just need to find you a new shirt.” He grimaces. “Sorry, I didn’t think about that.” 

Zuko shrugs. He’s not an exhibitionist or anything, but it doesn’t bother him to be shirtless in public. He looks down at himself.  _ It does look a little weird with the rest of my outfit _ , he admits silently. Every other part of him is totally covered in dark cloth, even his hands. And of course there’s the hood and mask. But looks aren’t exactly something Zuko concerns himself with much. No point. 

When the water is cool enough to handle—which Sokka had been checking by poking a finger in, scalding himself more than once—Sokka takes up the clean cloth and begins lathering it with hot water and soap. He spends a lot more time on this than he probably needs to, staring the whole while at Zuko’s side with an apprehensive look on his face. 

Zuko holds out a hand. 

Sokka blinks at it, then grabs it with the hand not holding the cloth. 

_ No, you idiot.  _ Huffing out a short exhale, Zuko shakes Sokka’s hand away and reaches again for the cloth. 

“Oh! I thought you wanted—do you want to clean it yourself?” Sokka asks. 

_ Not particularly _ . But Zuko nods anyway, watching relief flash over Sokka’s face. 

The wet cloth is pleasantly warm. He starts by draping it over his hip, letting the water and steam loosen up the dried blood. Then he braces himself and begins to scrub. 

He distracts himself from the pain by watching Sokka. The other boy winces visibly, his eyes widening and squinting in turns as his sympathy and horror flicker across his open face. His hands are fisted in his lap. 

Moving up higher along his side, Zuko can’t stop a groan at the touch of the cloth to his more sensitive ribs. 

Sokka reaches out and takes the cloth from him, dipping it in the pot and wringing it out a few times. He seems unperturbed at the mess.  _ I guess he did have my blood on his hands before. Literally.  _

Handing the rinsed cloth back, Sokka says, “Are you sure you don’t want to, uh…” He wiggles the fingers of his hand. “That must hurt like a bitch,” he says plainly, startling a snort from Zuko, “and it seemed like this helped before, so. You know. Happy to do it.” 

Zuko gingerly presses the dripping cloth to his ribs and considers. It’s stupid, on the one hand. On the other… it  _ did _ help.  _ It’s collateral that he won’t attack me while I’m vulnerable _ , Zuko tells himself half-heartedly.  _ Nothing to do with plain old comfort. Nope. Who needs that.  _

He sticks his free hand out before he can debate it further. To his relief, Sokka takes it without hesitation or ridicule. 

Turns out it wasn’t just some fluke, either. It does make the rest of the ordeal a little easier. 

Still hurts like a bitch, though. 

When Zuko finally finishes cleaning his wound to Sokka’s satisfaction, Sokka doesn’t give him much of a break before starting on the ointment. He doesn’t let Zuko do this part, either. 

“Just let me do it,” he says, exasperated. “You’re not going to do it very well blind.” 

Zuko bristles at this and nearly snaps,  _ I’m not  _ completely  _ blind _ , before he remembers his identity is still secret. 

Sokka is already spreading the paste on the burn one-handed, his fingers gentle in contrast with his tone. “Even if it wasn’t on your side, that ridiculous mask would make it nearly impossible to see, anyway.” He pauses and looks up. “Wait,  _ are _ you blind?” 

Zuko doesn’t bother to answer, rolling his eyes instead. 

Sokka seems to pick up on this. “Well, it’s  _ possible _ . You know Toph? The earthbender who helped us escape Lake Laogai?” His voice quietens slightly, and he keeps his eyes firmly on his work. “She’s blind. Like, completely blind.” 

Seriously? 

“Pretty crazy, right? I didn’t believe it at first. But she’s gotten so good at earthbending that she’s learned how to ‘see,’ in a way. With earthbending!” Sokka shakes his head. He wipes his hand off on the soiled cloth, then takes his other back from Zuko so he can screw the lid on the jar. “It’s pretty amazing, man.” 

Sokka reaches for the roll of bandages. The ointment must have some sort of pain relief in it, because the actual on-fire feeling is fading somewhat. 

“You know, I find all bending to be pretty amazing. I mean, Toph’s something else, and my sister—her name’s Katara—she’s a waterbending prodigy.” Sokka slips an arm under Zuko’s back to help him sit up. He unceremoniously grabs Zuko’s hand and makes him hold the loose end of the bandages in place, then starts wrapping. “And of course, Aang’s a natural.” 

Is that his name? The Avatar? Zuko tries to focus on his voice rather than the awful feeling of constant, if light, pressure on his burn. 

“It’s kind of tough, traveling with a bunch of incredible benders, when I’m not,” Sokka admits. He frowns in thought, or maybe concentration. “Maybe it’d be worse if I was a poor bender, I don’t know.” 

Zuko nods, thinking of the everpresent resentment and shame of his childhood bending practices with Azula. He feels Sokka’s eyes on his face as those steady hands pause in their wrapping. 

“Hm,” Sokka says after a moment, resuming his work. “Well, anyway, my point was that, even though it’s hard for me to admit it sometimes, bending is honestly… really cool. I wish I could ride a waterspout like Master Pakku! Or fall through a me-shaped hole in the ground, like King Bumi did.” 

Fall through a what? 

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell  _ when _ Aang’s airbending, because it’s so second nature to him, but that aspect by itself is pretty awesome. And…” Sokka trails off. The bandages are completely wrapped around Zuko’s torso now. He neatly ties a little knot in the middle of Zuko’s chest and tucks the loose end in. 

Then he sits back on his heels and looks straight at Zuko. 

“And the coolest firebending I’ve ever seen was a dragon.” 

Firebending? Zuko resists the urge to look away. Wait, dragon? 

“It was at some festival in a Fire Nation town. There was a stage performer who made a dragon out of fire. It was flying around in the sky, swooping and roaring…” Sokka actually has a little smile on his face as he reminisces, but then it drops. “It’s the only…  _ peaceful _ firebending I’ve seen. The rest has all been combat. Burning houses down. Burning people.” 

Sokka glances down at the bandages, then back up with a humorless smile. “Usually burning  _ other  _ people.” 

Zuko looks away this time, leaning heavily on his arms braced behind him. He’s too tired to stay upright, but the sudden serious turn of this conversation has him reluctant to lie back. It would make him more vulnerable to attack—but he doesn’t really expect that from Sokka. 

No, it’s more that he kind of wants to hear what Sokka has to say. He wants to show that he’s listening. He’s been learning to do that more, lately. 

Sokka wants to talk about peaceful firebending? Okay. Cautiously, Zuko transfers his weight to his left arm and lifts the other hand. He lights a small flame on one fingertip. They both look at it. 

It’s a cold, weak little thing. Nothing like the harsh power he’d wielded on himself. It’s bright but fragile, flickering in rhythm with his breath. He flicks his finger and watches the flame leap into the air above his hand. It swoops around in tiny arcs as he moves his fingers minutely, not even strong enough to trail any sparks. It’s a far cry from a dragon show at a festival, but Zuko tries to make it fly like one. 

Sokka follows the flame with his eyes, expression unreadable. 

When he speaks next, he’s so hushed that it’s almost like he doesn’t want to hear himself: “The Fire Nation took my mother away.” 

Zuko turns back to look at him. The empathy striking sharply at his chest makes him suck in a breath, accidentally suffocating the little flame with barely a wisp of smoke. 

Sokka’s gaze seems far away. “I couldn’t stop it,” he continues. There’s a soft desolation in his words. “It was during a raid on my tribe. Katara, she—she saw. After, I mean. What was left of her. Bato was able to stop me from going in, but I’ll never forget the look on Katara’s face. She was so young. We both were.” 

Sokka’s voice is steady, unbroken, but so quiet. Zuko is transfixed, frozen. 

“For years, I thought that’s what firebending was all about: war, violence, hatred. I thought all firebenders must be terrible people. And honestly, I haven’t met very many who have proved me wrong.” 

Zuko flinches minutely. He knows which category he falls into. The honorless crown prince of the Fire Nation, following Sokka’s group, hunting the Avatar. 

Sokka sighs. “But I have to believe there’s more to firebending, to the Fire Nation, than what I’ve seen. Even without all that spiritual talk about four elements in harmony or whatever; I’m a practical guy, and I know that, when this war ends”—here he looks up, his face set, a fierceness in his eyes—“and the war  _ will  _ end.” 

When Zuko doesn’t protest, he continues more calmly. “ _ When  _ it ends, we’re going to have to figure out a way to get along again. I’m not okay with doing to the Fire Nation what they did to the Air Nomads.” 

That hits Zuko like a glacier to the chest. He almost doesn’t hear Sokka’s next words. 

“So I have to believe that there’s common ground, that there’s normal, non-murderous people in the Fire Nation. Including firebenders.” And with that, Sokka’s speech comes abruptly to a halt. He looks back at his hands and twiddles his fingers together nervously. 

Zuko tries to process. He’s not sure what the point of this whole thing was, if there was one. Or if he’s supposed to respond, somehow. 

What Sokka said about the Air Nomads… Images he’d tried to shut away—scattered skeletons, large and small, littering soot-stained temples—flood right back into his head. It had shaken him to the core, stumbling across the first of those awful, silent battlefields. No, those weren’t battles. They were massacres. 

And to think of something similar happening to the entire Fire Nation, to his people, to think there might be some people who  _ do  _ want that to happen? It’s horrifying. Cruel. Understandable? 

_ How dare you think that? _ a sharp voice in his mind immediately berates him.  _ Just how much of a traitor are you?  _

But Zuko’s getting a little numb to the whole “traitor” concept. Which might mean he’s caring less about being an  _ anti _ -traitor: a loyal citizen and the perfect prince. Is he making any sense? 

_ Agni, I’m tired.  _

As if hearing him, his elbow gives out and he nearly collapses to his injured side. Sokka catches him by the shoulder, saving him from the worst of a painful fall. He pushes gently until Zuko obeys and lies on his back again. Then he steps away and busies himself unpacking the rest of his bag. 

“Look,” he says after a moment. “I didn’t really plan to tell you all that, but I did mean it. I don’t know if you’re Fire Nation, but I do know that you’re a firebender. And I know you helped with Appa, and you probably saved my life. But I need to know more, because this is all kind of strange. Like why you were at Lake Laogai in the first place, and what the deal is with this bounty.” 

Sokka stands up, but he keeps his back to Zuko. “But it can wait. For now, you need to get some rest. I’m going to try and catch some food.” 

He walks out without looking for a response. 

Zuko doesn’t expect to fall asleep, not after that. But, despite his mind whirling with Sokka’s words, with images of bleached bones, smoldering buildings, and his own mother’s face… he does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Sokka have a lot on his mind or what?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka wants some answers, gets some answers, and ends up with a lot more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animal Death warning: non-graphic descriptions of hunting animals for food. 
> 
> Hope you're all doing well today. Take care of yourselves!

Sokka’s hunt is unsuccessful; he’s too distracted to be very effective. He’s not sure where all that stuff about the war and the Fire Nation came from, but it’s probably been building up for a while—he hasn’t had much chance to talk about it with anyone. 

Aang is still too naive, too young for a frank discussion about violence and revenge. Katara, for all her compassion, still has trouble seeing Fire Nation people beyond the Fire Lord’s war and might not take kindly to Sokka seeming concerned for their welfare. And while Toph probably would’ve understood his pragmatism, she didn’t grow up in a war-torn community struggling to survive; she wouldn’t understand what that does to your instincts and perceptions. 

_ So you figure you might as well spill it to a stranger?  _ Sokka asks himself wryly. A firebending stranger, no less. 

He kicks at a clump of grass, not even pretending to look for tracks anymore. Walking around has settled him, at least. Even though he’s no closer to any real answers or solutions, just saying all that out loud had cleared his head. 

“I should probably head back to deal with my little fugitive problem,” he sighs. Then it occurs to him that said fugitive might have decided to leg it out of here the moment Sokka’s back was turned; isn’t that reasonable to expect from a criminal with trust issues? 

Sokka picks up the pace. It would really suck if Blue left before Sokka got some answers for this whole messed up situation. Not to mention the fact that Blue really shouldn’t be exerting himself, as injured as he is. Sokka’s not sure which one he’s more worried about. 

But it turns out he needn’t have worried at all; Blue’s still lying flat on his back where Sokka left him, still but for the slow rising and falling of his bandaged chest. Sokka tiptoes around him to grab the cook pot and soap, then goes to wash it in the river. 

Blue is still sleeping by the time the pot of rice is ready— _ yes, Katara, I can make dinner on my own _ —so Sokka calls out to wake him, remembering how poorly Blue had reacted to being woken via touch. 

“Blue! Wakey-wakey! Grub time.” Sokka forces exaggerated cheer into his voice. It’s good cop time; he’ll figure out bad cop on an as-needed basis. 

Blue’s hand comes up to his face as if to rub at his eyes, only to rap against the mask. 

“Did you really sleep in that thing all last night?” Sokka wonders. “Can’t be comfortable. Hope you like sleeping on your back.” 

Blue just shrugs and sits up carefully. Sokka watches in case he’ll have to help, but the rest seems to have done Blue good, because he seems steadier. 

Sokka hands him a bowl of rice topped with some strips of jerky. “I’d hoped to supplement with fresh meat, but I didn’t catch anything today. I’ll try again tomorrow.” He passes over a pair of wooden chopsticks, then settles in to scarf down his own bowl of rice. Who knew being a doctor slash interrogator made you so hungry? 

Blue stares at his chopsticks for a few odd seconds—does he not know how to use them..?—but then he shifts his mask up a little and starts eating without a problem, so Sokka’s not sure what that was all about. Yet another mystery to solve. 

But Sokka makes himself wait. Maybe Blue will be more receptive to questions once he has some food in his practically concave belly. 

What sort of answers is Sokka going to get? It’s not like Blue can explain away the firebending, but what if he just refuses to say anything about the wanted poster? Or claims he’s innocent? Is Sokka just supposed to believe everything he says? What if bringing him back here and treating his wound was a big mistake? Maybe Sokka’s about to get axe murdered. 

Realizing he’s tapping his fingers anxiously against his bowl, Sokka sets them to work tearing up a piece of jerky instead. He’s thinking of dropping the bad cop idea entirely in favor of good cop and extra good cop. A murderer wouldn’t kill someone who feeds them and makes friendly conversation, right? He can do friendly conversation. Quick, think of an ice breaker! Okay, okay, um… 

He pops a piece of shredded jerky in his mouth and immediately pulls a face. It could really use more salt, but then he shouldn’t have expected much from jerky not cured by his tribe. Aha! Meat! Meat’s a great topic. Or maybe that’s too bloody; no need to give Blue any ideas. Maybe he’ll try the opposite. 

“Did you know Aang’s vegetarian?” He manages to sound casual, as though they’d been chatting like pals this whole time. 

Blue looks up and nods. 

“Common Avatar knowledge, huh? Well,  _ Air _ Avatar. It definitely weirded me out at first—how do you survive without eating meat?—but our diet was weird for him, too.” Distracted from his original purpose, Sokka smiles as he remembers one particular incident. “He actually tried to sabotage my hunting one time, really early on. I was  _ not  _ amused at the time, but it’s kind of funny how he did it—” 

As Sokka recounts the story, Blue continues to be the least engaging person he’s ever spoken to; he doesn’t laugh or ask questions or interject comments, just eats quietly and listens. That’s alright, though. Sokka enjoys reliving the memory anyway. 

Okay, maybe it is a teensy bit unnerving. He wishes Blue would say something. Luckily he thought ahead on that front. 

They’re both finished eating by the time he’s done telling the story—Sokka having accomplished this by maybe talking with his mouth full just once or twice—so he figures it’s time to go back to the serious stuff. 

“Here,” he says, pulling out a thin slate and chalk from his bag. “I got these in the market. I figured, even if I can’t read Fire Nation, it’ll be easier to communicate if you can draw stuff.” 

Blue accepts the slate with a nod that looks more like a little bow. A thank you, maybe. That’s nice. 

“So. I guess we’d better start here.” Time to dive right in. Sokka unfolds the wanted poster and smooths it out on the ground between them. “Can you explain this?” 

Blue examines the poster for several tense seconds before he draws something on his slate. 

Encouraged by this willingness to participate, Sokka scoots over so he’s close enough to see. He looks down at the slate and pauses in surprise. It’s not a picture or Fire Nation writing, it’s—“Earth Kingdom script?” 

Blue nods. 

Sokka throws his hands up. “Why didn’t you say you could write in more than just Fire Nation?” 

Another shrug. Sokka’s getting tired of nods and shrugs. He takes another look at the slate now that he’s expecting to read instead of interpret. It says: “This isn’t a real Earth Kingdom wanted poster.” 

“Seriously?” Sokka frowns at him. So Blue’s going with the denial strategy here. Better shut that down quickly. “I find that hard to believe.” 

Blue circles the “Earth Kingdom” part. 

Sokka considers this. “Okay. So you aren’t really wanted in the Earth Kingdom, but you are somewhere else?” 

Flipping one hand between palm down and palm up, Blue writes, “Sort of.” 

Sokka shoots him a glare. “Can you just say what you mean instead of making me guess?” 

They have a mini stare-off, which Sokka apparently wins ( _ ha! _ ) because Blue looks away to start writing again. 

“I probably am wanted in the Earth Kingdom for the crimes listed here. But not enough to merit a poster.” 

“Yeah, I kind of thought the huge reward and ‘dead or alive’ part didn’t match up,” Sokka agrees. “So..?” 

Sitting this close to Blue, Sokka can hear him sigh. He figures it’s time to push again, but maybe with a more personal touch. He’s sincere when he says: “Come on, man. I stuck my neck out for you. Can’t I know what I stuck it out for?” 

This must sufficiently guilt Blue. After another moment’s reluctance, he writes: “The poster is from Shinu, a colonel in charge of [?] [?]. I—” 

Sokka stops him. “Hold on a sec. I can’t read that last part.” 

“Military base,” Blue writes. 

“Okay, it’s a name?”

A nod. “It’s in the Western Earth Kingdom.” 

“Right, the poster said that already. Colonel Shinu, Harbor Town.” 

Blue shakes his head. “Map,” he writes, then holds out a hand. 

Sokka hands him the map and watches Blue point out Harbor Town on it. He slides his gloved finger just across the water and taps at another spot, then taps on his slate at “military base.” 

Sokka frowns. “He’s not really from Harbor Town?” 

Blue shakes his head again. 

“Okay. So the name you wrote is for the base he’s actually from, and it’s close to Harbor Town. Why’s that important?” 

Sokka has no trouble reading the next character Blue writes. “Fire,” he breathes, eyes snapping up to Blue. “It’s a  _ Fire Nation _ base?” This changes everything. 

Blue nods and keeps writing. “I gave them some trouble a while back. I guess they’re still looking for me.” 

Sokka has to laugh. He’s nearly giddy with the relief—Blue’s a fugitive of the Fire Nation? That’s so much better than the worst-case scenarios Sokka had been imagining. He’s probably not even a criminal at all. “Okay, that is not what I expected. You’re wanted by the Fire Nation?” He looks at the poster with new eyes. “...That’s really sneaky of them.” 

“If the Fire Nation put out a large bounty on me in the Earth Kingdom, it’d give people here the wrong idea,” Blue continues. 

Sokka nods. “They might think you’re a hero or something. So Shinu fudges the truth instead.” He strokes his chin, trying to fit all the pieces together. “But why would the Fire Nation put out a bounty on you here at all? I mean, they might as well make Earth Kingdom wanted posters for  _ Aang _ .” 

“I don’t know,” Blue writes. 

Finally, words instead of a shrug. 

“Whatever you did must have been pretty bad,” Sokka says with a grin, ready to hear about some victories against the Fire Nation military. 

Aaand they’re back to shrugs. 

“This colonel must’ve taken it pretty personally,” Sokka prods. He’s pretty confident now that Blue’s not really an axe murderer, so he feels safe being a little annoying. “What’d you do, pants him in front of his troops?” This time, Sokka’s close enough to hear Blue exhale in what might be a laugh. 

“No,” Blue writes. Then he pauses with his chalk still to the slate. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he adds eventually. 

Sokka crosses his arms. “Dude. I travel with the Avatar. I’ve seen some pretty crazy stuff.” 

“That’s the problem,” Blue responds. “It’s going to seem too convenient.” 

Huh?

“Huh?”

Sokka hears another sigh. Geez, this guy has no end to his exasperation. 

“Just tell me!” Sokka’s not above whining. Not when he’s curious. 

Blue shakes his head but starts writing. “The Avatar was captured and held at  [?] Shinu’s base. I broke him out.” 

Sokka’s jaw drops. “Wait,  _ what _ ?” He splutters. “I don’t remember this happening! Where was I? How do I know you’re telling the truth?” 

“Frozen. Frogs.” 

“...”

They stare at each other. 

“...okay, how’d you know about the frozen frogs.” 

“He had frogs crawling out from his shirt and was yelling about how his friends needed to suck on them,” Blue writes. 

“Yeah.” Sokka coughs, a bad taste suddenly in his mouth. “Those were disgusting.” 

“What were they for?” Blue asks. 

“Katara and I were sick,” Sokka says, unable to elaborate on why  _ frogs _ —Aang had never fully explained. “You know, Aang didn’t tell us the whole story. He was clearly hiding something, but I didn’t think it’d be him getting caught by the Fire Nation!” 

Blue shrugs. “Now you know,” he writes. 

“And how did  _ you  _ find out he was captured, anyway?” 

“Heard someone talking about it.” 

Sokka frowns. That doesn’t sound like the full truth, but he lets it go in favor of something more immediately relevant. “So—if you’re a fugitive of the Fire Nation, why are you still hiding your identity in the Earth Kingdom? I mean, wouldn’t it make more sense to look like a normal person?” 

Blue seems to hesitate before writing: “I did say I’m probably wanted in the Earth Kingdom for those crimes.” 

“Oh.” Sokka stops short. “The petty theft, the armed robbery..?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh.” That’s a little disappointing. Blue really  _ is _ a criminal. “Why?” 

“We had nothing. We needed to survive,” Blue writes plainly. He sits with his head bowed over the slate. 

_ We? _ Sokka wonders. He’s sympathetic—not everyone gets handouts just from being the Avatar. He knows this war has dragged a lot of families into poverty. 

“But,” Blue continues slowly, “I took more than we really needed. I’m not proud of it.” He hurriedly adds: “I only took the extra stuff from rich people, though.” 

Sokka says nothing, unsure how to feel about this uncomfortable confession. 

“I guess it doesn’t make a difference.” Blue shrugs awkwardly. “I didn’t take anything after  my someone talked to me about it. Then in Ba Sing Se we found jobs.” 

“...okay. So you started over in Ba Sing Se, but you still wore the mask?” 

“I was sneaking into the [?] headquarters. I wasn’t going to do that without a disguise.” 

“Does that say ‘Dai Li’? Yeah, that makes sense.” Sokka pauses. “But then, why are you still in disguise now?” 

Blue doesn’t make a move to respond. 

“You don’t want me to see who you are,” Sokka says matter-of-factly, thinking it through. “And I bet it’s not because you think I’ll turn you in to the Fire Nation.” 

Still no answer. 

“So, you helped Aang escape the Fire Nation. You helped Appa escape the Dai Li. I  _ am  _ seeing a pattern here,” Sokka muses, “but I just don’t get why you’d hide from allies. Is it because you’re a firebender?” 

Blue hesitates before nodding. Lacking the full truth, again. 

“Look, what’s your plan here? Like, why were you helping Appa?” 

“I don’t know,” Blue tells him. That’s a little strange. 

“You snuck into Dai Li headquarters to free the Avatar’s sky bison, and you don’t know why.” Sokka says flatly. “And rescuing Aang?” 

Blue hunches his shoulders up around his head, which is apparently the only answer Sokka’s getting. 

Sokka sighs and drums his fingers against his thigh. This is not ideal; he’d been hoping to completely satisfy his curiosity. Maybe even uncover Blue’s identity. But Sokka knows at least part of Blue’s story is true, which leaves him with an Aang-rescuing, Appa-freeing, Sokka-saving… firebending, petty criminal. Maybe it’s enough to be getting along with? 

“What is it that you want?” he finally asks.  _ With Appa, with Aang, with me, with the Fire Nation _ , he doesn’t add. 

It takes Blue a long time to answer, and in the end all he writes is: “I want to go home.” 

Sokka’s pretty sure he doesn’t mean something as simple as returning to Ba Sing Se. It’s hard to read inflection in text, but it is clearly an honest answer. Maybe painfully honest. That’s what Blue wants the most? Why can’t he go home? 

Sokka wrestles with his need to know, with the missing piece in this puzzle that he can practically  _ feel  _ the shape of—and then he consciously lets it go. “Okay,” he says quietly. 

Blue watches him, head tilting. 

“I still don’t understand, and it’s still weird that you want to stay hidden… but after everything you’ve done, I can deal with it.” Sokka holds a gaze with the black eye holes of that spirits-forsaken mask. “Because I trust you.” 

That makes Blue look down at the slate in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he writes slowly. 

For hiding his identity? For gaining Sokka’s trust? 

“And,” Blue continues, “thank you.” 

Sokka hates how much is being left unsaid. He doesn’t like being kept in the dark, doesn’t like not knowing things. But a man needs his privacy, he figures, and Blue has proven trustworthy so far. Sokka can handle some secrets. 

In a show of good faith he reaches over and slaps Blue on the back—not hard, but Blue flinches and hisses in a breath anyway, and his arm stiffens at his bandaged side—“Tui, I’m sorry!” Sokka yelps. “I forgot, shit—” 

And that was definitely a laugh. Brief, sharp, and unpracticed, but a laugh, even if it was cut off nearly as soon as it began. It’s raspy, like Blue’s not used to doing it. 

Sokka laughs, too, sheepishly. He feels a lot of the built-up tension fade away. “Sorry,” he says again, but this time he’s smiling. “How are you feeling, anyway?” 

“Better,” Blue writes. 

“Uh huh. I’m sure you’re all healed up,” Sokka says sarcastically, channeling a little of Katara in mom mode. “I think it’s time for you to go back to sleep.” 

Blue waves a hand as if in protest, then looks to the entrance of the cave. 

Sokka flushes with a sudden thought. “Do you, uh. Need help getting outside for anything..?” 

That gets him a very firm head shake, some more hand waving, and Blue standing up on his own to boot. 

“Alright, alright. Be careful.” Sokka’s not about to insist on helping with this. 

Blue heads out of the cave, arm braced against his side. If that whirlwind of a conversation hadn’t already convinced Sokka that Blue’s not going to make a break for it, the way he wobbles on uncertain legs certainly would have dispelled any doubts. 

Sokka busies himself banking the fire. When Blue returns after just a few minutes, Sokka goes and takes his turn in the bushes. On his way back in, he gives Appa a few nose scritches and murmurs a good night, knowing Aang always used to do that. 

Blue’s lying down in the inner cave, looking uncomfortable on the bare dirt. Sokka casts around for Blue’s ragged shirt. He balls it up with the dried blood on the inside, then pokes at Blue’s head until he lifts it and slides the improvised pillow into place. “Cold?” he asks, unrolling the new blanket. 

Blue shakes his head. The brief touch to his bare back earlier had had Sokka worried Blue was already feverish, but maybe it’s a firebender thing. 

“Well, I could only afford one blanket, so if you do get cold we’ll have to share.” Sokka lies down on his back within reach of Blue. He’s no stranger to piling close to people at night for warmth, so it feels pretty natural to settle down next to Blue. He covers himself with half the blanket and lets the other half pool in the space between them. 

“Man, what a day,” he says softly with a long exhale. 

A short exhale from Blue suggests he feels the same way. Sokka wonders if he’d been just as nervous for their conversation. Though really, Blue’s probably thinking of the part where he got stabbed and everything. That’s probably a little more traumatizing than talking to another boy. 

“Night, Blue,” Sokka yawns.  _ I should’ve asked him if he wants me to call him something else, now that he can write _ , he thinks sleepily.  _ In the morning _ … 

* * *

In the morning, Blue is definitely feverish. He’s still coherent, able to respond with nods and head shakes to Sokka’s questions, but Sokka has to prop him up to get him to drink some water. 

“This isn’t surprising,” Sokka tells him. “The healer told me burns get infected really easily, so your body is probably trying to fight that off.” 

Blue nods weakly from his prone position on the ground. He flicks his wrist in the air like he’s writing, so Sokka retrieves the slate and chalk. He helps Blue steady the slate above him as he writes: “I know how this goes. I’ll be fine.” 

“You’ve been burned before?” Sokka guesses. 

A nod. 

Sokka chews his lip. If he knows about infections and fevers, he probably doesn’t mean something like a stray spark or a scalded hand. “Badly?” 

Another nod. 

Sokka’s not about to ask for details, except for one question he can’t stop: “Did you do it?” 

Thankfully, Blue shakes his head. Sokka isn’t sure what he’d do if it turned out Blue regularly burned himself. But on the other hand, that probably means Blue has been burned by someone  _ else.  _

It could’ve been a house fire or something, Sokka reasons before his imagination can get too graphic pulling from his memories of Fire Nation raids. No point in wondering when Blue clearly doesn’t want to share. 

He makes sure Blue has plenty of water at hand and bullies him into nibbling on some more dried meat. He’ll have to actually find some fresh meat soon; Blue needs the iron. 

“I’m going to leave you here for a bit, okay?” he tells Blue. Not ideal, but he’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t stay away for too long. He wishes Katara were here. 

Blue nods and lets out a shiver. Sokka tucks the blanket around him before hurrying out. He’d better make this trip count. 

* * *

There’s some of those crazy llamas hopping around the forested mountainside, but Sokka quickly decides against trying for one of them. 

Firstly, they must have great hearing or something, because whenever he tries throwing Boomerang, they twitch just barely of the way—on its outgoing  _ and _ return trips—every time. 

Secondly, they’re pretty large. That’d be a good thing back in the village, where there were plenty of people to help carry it back, skin it, treat the hide, and cure the meat—but here, it’s just Sokka. (He tries not to let that thought hurt.) He doesn’t have the time or the resources to handle something that big; a lot would go to waste, and that could draw predators closer to the cave… bad idea, all around. 

So he keeps moving, a little miffed at the llamas’ total disregard for him as he passes through their midst. “I could’ve eaten you,” he grumbles at one of them, shaking Boomerang threateningly. The llama chews some grass in response. 

Like the first time, his hunt is disrupted somewhat by the thoughts buzzing around in his head. As he kneels to inspect a set of tracks, he thinks about kneeling by Blue’s side in that cursed alleyway. Tightening one of his forearm wraps, he thinks about wrapping bandages around Blue’s torso and monologuing about bending. 

But mostly, in the background, not reminded by anything in particular, he’s thinking about Katara. About Aang and Toph. Wondering if they’re on their way here. It’s distracting, but he has a hard time clearing his mind—it feels like forgetting about them. 

Eventually, Sokka stumbles across a group of some kind of hare nibbling at grass in a flowery meadow. Boomerang stuns one easily, and he manages to catch the rebound and hit another as they flee in the opposite direction. He quickly kills them with Boomerang’s sharp edge and busies himself with the field dressing and cleaning, sending up a prayer in thanks to Yue as he does. (He’s not sure what Earth Kingdom spirit to pray to, so he hopes that will do.) 

As he buries the remains and cleans himself off in the river, his worry ramps up at having left Blue alone. He’s fine, it’s just a fever, Sokka tells himself. A fever caused by a nasty laceration and traumatic burn. Yeah. No biggie. 

Blue appears to be sleeping fitfully when he returns. Sokka checks the temperature of his neck, unable to get to his forehead—he’s burning up, but there’s little Sokka can do. 

He blows the embers back to life and stokes the fire to a low crackle. Borrowing one of Blue’s swords, he slices up the fresh meat and sets most of it to begin smoking over the fire, throwing the rest in the cook pot to stew. The whole time, he keeps an eye on Blue. 

He’s just cleaning Blue’s sword on the bloody cloth from yesterday when there’s a sudden movement. Blue’s head erratically tosses from side to side, mask emitting soft  _ clunk _ s as its edges tap against the ground. His hands curl into fists at his sides. 

Oh, no. Fever dreams, Sokka thinks grimly. Those can be brutal. Is nightmare-ridden sleep worse for recovering than no sleep at all? 

“Blue,” he calls loudly. “Blue, wake up!” He resheathes the sword and sets the scabbard far away from them both—no sense asking for trouble. “Blue!” Should he risk shaking him awake? 

An aborted whimper makes up his mind. He hurries over to Blue’s side and sets a hand on Blue’s bare, burning shoulder. 

The instant he makes contact, Blue’s hands fly up to his mask, palms outward to ward him off. “No,” Blue croaks. 

Sokka’s eyes widen. So he does talk. 

He keeps his hand where it is, shaking gently. “Blue, it’s okay. Come on, man, it’s just a dream.” 

“Father,” Blue breathes, his hands trembling. “Don’t—” He gasps loudly and freezes in place. 

Sokka watches carefully. “Blue? You back with me?” He squeezes gently at Blue’s shoulder but otherwise doesn’t move. 

Blue lowers his hands back to his sides, breathing deliberately. He nods after a second. He’s incredibly tense under Sokka’s hand, so Sokka lets him go. 

He decides to give the guy some space to collect himself, so he snatches up the waterskin and goes to refill it from the river. He spends that time wondering about the words he overheard. Were “father” and “don’t” part of the same sentence? Because he doesn’t like where that idea leads. Especially with Blue instinctively protecting his head at the same time. 

But it was only a few words, and a bad dream. And it’s none of Sokka’s business. He shouldn’t jump to conclusions. 

_ Should I ask if he wants to talk about it? _ he wonders. 

Blue seems steadier when he returns, even able to sit up by himself to drink when Sokka offers him the waterskin. Lying back down, Blue goes to touch his face, but his fingers ungracefully collide with the left cheek of the mask. 

Sokka watches him. “Are you sure you can breathe okay in that?” he asks eventually. He hopes Blue catches the words he leaves unvoiced. Are you okay? Do you want to take the mask off? You can trust me. 

A nod answers the surface-level question. Blue grabs the chalk and, writing blindly on the slate lying at his side, he adds a simple: “Thanks.” 

Sokka has a feeling there’s some things Blue is leaving unsaid, too. Maybe some day they’ll have a frank conversation, face to face. But he’s not going to bet on it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys can actually talk now!! It would've been interesting to have Zuko doing charades the whole time, but that would've been too restrictive for all this important stuff I wanted them to talk about. So I gave them some chalk. :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys talk about sexism, cultural traditions, and war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys!! We are halfway through! I worked on this story for two and a half months, and now it's going by so quickly. I'm not sure what I'll do with myself once it's over! 
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the read. :)

Zuko is relieved when Sokka doesn’t mention the nightmare, not even after his fever breaks and he’s fully coherent again. He doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s embarrassing enough that Sokka witnessed it. Zuko’s embarrassed even when  _ Uncle _ witnesses that nightmare, and Agni knows that’s happened enough times that he should be used to it by now. 

At least Zuko hadn’t talked in his sleep; that would’ve been a disaster. 

He manages to stumble to the river that evening to bathe. Sweating out the fever had left a film of grime all over his body. The cool water is shocking against his still heated skin, but he relishes in the feeling. He wades in fully clothed at first, minus his shoes, thinking it might be easier to clean his clothes while still wearing them. That doesn’t work out very well, and after a few minutes he gives up and strips. 

He even takes the mask off, confident that Sokka’s too honorable (and not nearly perverted enough) to be watching him from the bushes. The fresh air on his face is a relief. He dunks his head under, scouring his greasy hair. He wishes he didn’t have to put the mask back on, but he can’t stay here without it. 

After scrubbing himself down with the bar of soap Sokka had handed him, Zuko takes a minute to examine the wound that will soon be his latest scar. It looks pretty nasty and it still hurts a lot, but there isn’t a ton of pus or weird colors, so Zuko counts himself lucky. (He usually never has any luck. But when it comes to surviving? He’s a damn cockroach.) 

He owes a lot of it to Sokka. Without the medicine, the bandages, and someone to fetch him water while he burned up from the inside, he would have been a lot worse off. Zuko doesn’t understand why Sokka’s helping him, but he is lucky for it. Grateful for it. 

Once clean, Zuko tries to throw himself into camp chores in thanks. But Sokka refuses to let him hunt—not that Zuko would know where to start—and there’s honestly not that much else that needs doing. 

He tends the campfire. Gathers some more wood, trying to hide how much it hurts to bend over to pick up branches. Sits still while Sokka reapplies ointment and bandages. And then he’s exhausted. 

“You’re still recovering,” Sokka says, glaring Zuko into sitting back down. “Don’t be an idiot.” 

Zuko glares back. “I can pull my own weight,” he writes in quick, sharp strokes on his slate. 

Sokka waves a hand dismissively, turning away to set the cook pot over the fire. “You sound like Toph,” he says, quirking his lips into a sideways smile. “Want to hear about how she joined our group?” 

Well, if Sokka’s going to make Zuko sit still, he may as well get something out of it. Maybe he’ll learn something useful. 

But Zuko quickly forgets about useful as Sokka spins a wild tale about a blind, twelve-year-old champion. Sokka’s  _ good _ at storytelling. He weaves descriptions in effortlessly, pauses in all the right places… Zuko can practically feel the ground shaking beneath him when Toph battles an entire squadron of fighters in front of her incredulous parents. 

“Her father said she’s ‘helpless and fragile’?” he writes when Sokka wraps up the fight. “He took it back after that, right?” 

Sokka makes a face. “Actually, no. He said she had too much freedom and was going to be guarded twenty-four hours a day.” 

“Sounds like a dick,” Zuko scrawls, utterly confused. Lock up a master bender for bending? That’s crazy. 

Sokka laughs, startled. “Yeah, kind of. I think he wanted Toph to be more like an ideal Earth Kingdom lady.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Flapping a hand, Sokka answers vaguely: “Oh, you know. Dainty. Quiet.” 

Zuko’s thoughts flash back to his brief encounter with Toph at Lake Laogai. Dainty and quiet? Yeah, right. 

“Is that a thing?” he asks, as articulate as ever. 

“A thing?” 

“An expectation,” Zuko clarifies. “For Earth Kingdom girls.” 

“I guess? I’m not exactly an expert on Earth Kingdom culture,” Sokka points out. 

“What about in the Water Tribes, then?” 

Sokka wrinkles his nose. “It’s kind of complicated.” He thinks about it for a minute. “Well, first of all, things have changed a lot lately. From what the elders say, we didn’t always think in terms of men and women. I mean, there were men and women, but not  _ just _ men and women. There were some other options, you know?” 

_ No, I really don’t? _ “What are you talking about?” Zuko writes. 

“I mean like, there’s more to gender than just two, clearly defined options.” 

There are? 

Sokka waves a hand dismissively. “You should really talk to my Gran Gran about this. Because with the war… ” he trails off, looking uncomfortable. 

“Some things changed?” Zuko suggests. 

“What  _ didn’t _ change?” Sokka scoffs. “But yeah. I’m not sure why, but by the time I was growing up, it was ‘men’ who fought in the war while ‘women’ stayed at home to keep the tribe alive. I thought it made sense. It was simple!” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “I got in a lot of fights with Katara about it.” 

Zuko’s about to write a sarcastic comment regarding Katara ever sitting out of a fight, but then he remembers he’s not supposed to know anything about her. “She didn’t want to stay at home with the other women?” he hazards. 

Sokka shakes his head. “At least, she didn’t want to  _ have _ to stay home just because she’s a girl. And she thought she should learn how to hunt and fight, too.” 

Zuko frowns. “So the women staying at home… none of them could fight? Not even self-defense?” Their village really was defenseless? 

“It just wasn’t done.” Sokka shrugs. Then a grin lights up his face. “I changed my mind after we met the Kyoshi Warriors. They kicked my butt.” 

Zuko figures this is dangerous territory, too, so he just tries to nod sympathetically. He hadn’t had the best of luck on Kyoshi Island, either. 

“Then we got to the Northern Water Tribe, and it really hit me. Master Pakku was going to teach Aang waterbending, but he wouldn’t teach Katara because she’s a girl. And I couldn’t stop wondering: what good does that do? How would that help them end the war?” Sokka lets out a surprisingly bitter laugh. “But then I remembered. They  _ aren’t _ trying to end the war; they’ve just shut themselves off from it.” 

“What about the fight with the Fire Nation a while back?” It feels risky to ask, but Zuko’s curious to hear what Sokka thinks about it. 

Sokka frowns at him. “That was an invasion. The start of a siege. The war came to  _ them _ . And anyway, it was the first fighting they’d done in eighty years!” 

“And yet they wiped out half the navy,” Zuko points out, feeling that old grief flare up again. So many of his people’s lives, forever lost to the coldest depths of the vengeful ocean. Wasteful. Pointless. And sad. 

“But that wasn’t them,” Sokka says hollowly, lost in his memories. “It was Aang and La.” 

Zuko shudders, suddenly cold. He regrets bringing it up. The thought of that gargantuan creature of water advancing through the canals of that frozen city… 

Sokka brings him back to the present. “Anyway, Katara did a pretty good job of kicking Master Pakku’s butt, and then we found out our Gran Gran had run away from an arranged marriage with him.” 

Oof. “Awkward.” 

“Yeah.” Sokka looks a little grossed out. “But it got him to teach her, so whatever, I guess. She was still the only girl learning combat bending.” 

“That’s so strange to me,” Zuko writes, thinking of the terrifying force that was Azula and her friends. He tries to imagine Azula staying safely at home, forbidden from bending. Not a chance. 

“Maybe they’ll change,” Sokka says with a shrug. “I did. Suki really opened my eyes.” 

Zuko tilts his head. 

“Oh, Suki’s the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors,” Sokka explains. “Actually, I think she’s the one who taught me to stop assuming people’s pronouns.” 

“Is  _ that _ what you were talking about?!” Zuko writes, handwriting messy with enthusiasm. 

“What?” 

Zuko shakes his head. “I couldn’t understand why you needed me to tell you my gender.” 

“Not gender,” Sokka corrects. “Pronouns.” 

There’s a difference? Zuko sighs. This is confusing. 

“I tried to just think of you as ‘them’ until I knew you go by ‘him.’ But, well.” Sokka’s face reddens slightly. “I slipped up and went back to making assumptions. Old habits are hard to break.” 

“It wasn’t a problem. You were right.” 

“This time, maybe,” Sokka says lightly. He raises his eyebrows at Zuko. “So, it sounded like you think women should fight. I think Katara and Toph would appreciate that about you.” 

“Women can die in the war just as well as men can,” Zuko writes sourly without thinking. It’s a twist on a common Fire Nation philosophy: the idea that all are equal in death. (But as for  _ getting _ there, well. There’s a reason modern Fire Nation stories often end with a glorious death in battle.) 

From the look on Sokka’s face, that might have been a little too dark. 

Luckily, a cracking twig in the fire draws Sokka’s attention, and he lets the topic go to peer into the pot. “Rice looks ready. Hungry?” 

He’s ravenous, Zuko realizes suddenly. He eagerly accepts a bowl from Sokka and barely remembers to give a quick, silent prayer of thanks before digging in with his chopsticks. 

Sokka watches him wolf down his food. “Hey, is there anything weird about those chopsticks?” 

Zuko tilts his head, not wanting to put his food down to write. 

“You were looking at them funny before.” Sokka studies his own pair as though looking for an abnormality. 

Oh. Zuko reluctantly exchanges chopsticks for chalk. “You bought two pairs,” he writes. 

“Two for one deal,” Sokka grins at him. “Or is that a four for two deal…” He chuckles at his own joke. “But yeah, at that point I kind of assumed you were sticking around.” 

Zuko feels another rush of guilt at having snuck away. He tamps it down, annoyed. 

Sokka shoves a huge scoop of rice in his mouth and immediately follows it with a question. “Er oo pannin to head bach to bah shin shay?” 

Taking a guess, Zuko responds: “Yes, I was trying to find a ride to Ba Sing Se.” 

Sokka nods and swallows with some difficulty. “Are you in that much of a hurry to get back?” He frowns apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t take you yet. I have to wait here for my friends.” 

“It’s okay,” Zuko writes. “I couldn’t find a ride anyway, and I can’t walk back like this.” 

“Flying is the way to go, man,” Sokka tells him. 

“Aren’t you more used to sailing?” 

Sokka shrugs. “Well, sure. I mean, I was paddling a canoe practically before I could walk. But on Appa, you don’t have to do any work!” 

Zuko considers this. He hadn’t had to do much work personally on his own ship, although he had found work for himself—primarily by overseeing the crew, even when he didn’t exactly know what they were doing. Sitting on one animal’s back for hours at a time with nothing to do? 

“Sounds boring,” he writes. He quickly adds: “No offense, Appa.” Except he doesn’t actually know how to write Appa’s name, so he improvises with a little sketch. 

Sokka squints at it. “What’s that?” 

Zuko points out towards the outer cave. 

“Appa?” Sokka asks, incredulous. “It looks nothing like him!” 

“Yes it does!” 

“Your art skills are terrible, just admit it.” But Sokka softens his words with a grin. “Don’t worry, I didn’t draw him much better.” 

“Do you know how to write his name?” Zuko asks. 

“In Earth Kingdom? Yeah, we figured it out so we could put it on these fliers we dropped all over the city.” Sokka pulls the slate towards himself and grabs the chalk. 

Zuko doesn’t remember reading a name on the flier, but then, he also doesn’t really remember if he read any of the text at all. It had been a good likeness of Appa—Sokka’s a  _ lot _ better at drawing than Zuko. 

He studies the pair of characters Sokka had written out. “What about in your tribe’s script?” he writes hesitantly. 

Sokka tilts his head curiously. “Why? Oh, right—you said you hadn’t seen Water Tribe writing before. None at all?” 

Zuko shakes his head. He’s unsure if he should say this, but he goes ahead anyway: “I didn’t know the Water Tribes could write. Or read.” 

He’d implied that before, but this time Sokka seems to really hear it. A troubled look passes over his face. “At all? Seriously?” 

Hunching his shoulders defensively, Zuko writes, “It’s what I was told growing up.” 

“That’s…” Sokka huffs. “I don’t even know what to say to that.” He stares down into his empty bowl, brow furrowed. 

“Sorry,” Zuko writes after a while, when it seems like Sokka’s not going to say anything else. 

But that’s apparently not the right thing to say, because it just gets that frown turned on him. “For what? Listening to your elders?” Sokka asks rhetorically, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Zuko thinks about it. Is he sorry? What for? “Sorry that it happened,” he tries eventually. It wasn’t Zuko’s fault, no. But it’s not right, spreading lies about a whole people like that. Making them out to be less capable, less intelligent, less… well, just  _ less _ . 

Sokka taps his fingers against his knee. “What else did you hear about the Water Tribes?” he asks, a frown still darkening his face. 

That sounds like a trap. One that Zuko could easily walk into with a foot in his mouth. He hates talking like this, trying to guess the hidden intentions and potential missteps in every conversation. Azula had loved it; she excelled at setting traps. How to avoid this one? 

“Why don’t you tell me what they’re actually like?” he ends up writing, hoping that’s enough to deflect. 

Sokka gives him a considering look. Zuko calls on his royal training to sit still instead of squirming under that gaze. To his relief, Sokka eventually acquiesces. 

“Okay, sure. What do you want to know?” 

The writing system stuff was probably a little sensitive at the moment. Zuko casts around for another topic, and a tangentially related one pops into his head. “You said something about oral traditions.” 

Sokka nods. “Yeah. We’ve passed down stories and histories for generations. I don’t even know how old most of them are.” He stares into the fire, but his expression is soft, no longer brooding. “I loved storytelling nights. Sitting around a fire listening to one of the elders speak. Some stories were more like warnings, telling you what to do if you want to survive a night out on an ice floe or something. Others were about spirits, like how Tui and La created the tide, or about our ancestors in the tribe.” 

Zuko doesn’t get it. “How do they not disappear if they aren’t written down?” 

“They do,” Sokka tells him sadly. “They have been, lately.” He sighs. “Stories are meant to be told. You pass them down to your children and grandchildren to keep them alive. But with the war… a lot of stories have died with my people.” 

Oh. He doesn’t know how to respond. What do you say to something like that? 

“I can’t imagine what it’s like for Aang, though,” Sokka continues. “I’ve lost people. I’m losing my culture.” He shakes his head. “But Aang? He’s lost  _ everything _ .” 

Zuko had never thought of it like that before. Aang isn’t just the Avatar. Not just the last airbender. 

He’s the only Air Nomad left. A whole people, a whole culture—gone up in smoke with Sozin’s comet. Great-grandfather’s comet. 

Zuko feels a creeping sense of shame that he has a connection to that comet. That it was his family that wiped out the Air Nomads—and not the nonexistent Air Nation army, like every Fire Nation child was taught in school. Zuko had uncovered that lie a long time ago as he scouted temples and read everything he could get his hands on relating to the Avatar. 

“That’s one of the reasons why it’s so important we win this war.” Sokka’s voice startles Zuko out of his thoughts. He looks up to meet Sokka’s determined gaze. “We need to protect Aang. So that one day, when there’s peace again, we can help him rebuild his culture.” 

“Why do you care?” Zuko wonders. “It’s not your culture.” 

Sokka glares at him. “You think I should only care about my own tribe? That’s how we got into this mess—people only caring about themselves! The Fire Nation only caring about the Fire Nation!” 

Zuko shakes his head before he can think about it, feeling defensive in the face of Sokka’s anger. 

Sokka scoffs at him, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. “Oh, really? Enlighten me.” 

Zuko narrows his eyes back.  _ Why is he mad at me? I didn’t do anything! _ “This war isn’t for the Fire Nation,” he scratches out. 

“You could’ve fooled me!” Sokka says disbelievingly. “I can’t believe this—who do you think it’s for, then?” 

Frustrated that he ended up with his foot in his mouth anyway, Zuko struggles to find the words. He’s not good at this, damn it! At a loss, he harshly underlines the “Nation” part of his last sentence. 

His piece of chalk snaps in half. Of fucking course. In a split second, anger takes control with a red haze, and he throws the two halves to break into pieces against the wall. Then he immediately doubles over in pain as his side  _ burns _ from the rapid twisting of his torso. He wheezes, face hot with pain—and more than that, embarrassment at his sudden childish display of temper. 

Sokka stares at the slate for what feels like ages while Zuko’s breath rings loud in the silence. Then he reaches into his bag and draws out another piece of chalk. In a calmer voice, holding out the chalk like an olive branch, he asks again: “Then who is it for?” 

Zuko tries to calm down, too. He needs to figure out what he’s trying to say before he writes it. Otherwise they’re going to end up yelling at each other. 

The war isn’t for his nation, not really. But it’s supposed to be. He figures that’s as good a start as any. “It’s  supposed to be for the glory of the Fire Nation. And for sharing  our their greatness with the world.” 

“But?” Sokka prompts. Zuko takes heart in the fact that he still seems willing to listen. 

“But the nation isn’t the same thing as the people. The  people get conscripted and die for their nation whether they want to or not,” he writes bitterly, the forty-first division weighing heavily on his mind. Maybe the memory of that day in the war room is what makes him say, “The war is for the Fire Lord.” 

That makes Sokka go quiet again. They both stare at Zuko’s written words. 

Zuko has surprised himself yet again. He keeps thinking things or saying things that don’t fall in line with what he’s taught, that go against the laws of his nation—that don’t respect the ultimate sovereignty of the Fire Lord. He keeps thinking these things, and then he shuts them down. Never lets himself put it all together. Dismisses traitorous words that ring true in his heart, because even when on the run from his own military, Zuko remains loyal. He  _ is _ loyal. To the Fire Nation. 

To the Fire Lord? 

He just told Sokka they aren’t the same thing; the Fire Nation and the Fire Lord are separate. What one wants or needs is not necessarily what the other wants or needs. What one deserves is not necessarily… 

“So we take him down,” Sokka speaks up quietly. His previous anger is gone, but the determination is back. He meets Zuko’s eyes. “We take down the Fire Lord to stop the war.” 

Zuko swallows hard and looks away. He doesn’t let himself think a single word, afraid of what he’ll hear. 

Instead he wipes the slate clean and asks: “Will you tell me one of your tribe’s stories?” 

There’s an uncomfortably knowing look in Sokka’s eyes, but he allows the change of subject. “Okay.” He smiles. “How about some ancient advice on surviving the poles?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! They said a lot of things in this chapter. 
> 
> And Zuko got a bath, which I know some of you were hoping for 😄


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, some angst, and plenty of bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some celebratory fluff!! And celebratory angst, for you masochists. 
> 
> In case it wasn’t clear, this fic is completely done! I wrote and edited it over a couple months for an ATLA big bang (see the collection for the other fics!). I am really enjoying reading your comments - you guys have some great ideas that I wish I could have incorporated, if only I was still writing this thing. 
> 
> I’m posting this chapter on mobile, so please tell me if something seems messed up with the formatting or whatever!

The next few days pass in a common pattern. 

In the morning, Sokka wakes up to find Blue already sitting in front of a fire. (He wonders if it’s a firebender thing to always want a fire, even during the day. They’re burning through wood like—well.) 

They eat a breakfast of jook and fruit, then take turns washing in the river—Appa included, on one memorable morning. Clean, Sokka checks on Blue’s side and rebandages it. 

Then they split up: Appa to graze and do whatever it is bison do, Sokka to go hunt, and Blue to gather wood and fruit and then take a mandatory, absolutely non-negotiable rest. Sokka’s getting pretty good at catching those hares, so usually by afternoon they have nothing left to do but sit around. 

So they talk. 

Well, Sokka talks and Blue writes. The squeaky sound of chalk on slate is practically a voice, now. 

Sokka tells stories, which Blue never seems to get tired of; he always scoots closer and never interrupts, only moving to watch Sokka’s dramatic arm movements. (“Did no one ever tell you stories as a kid?” Sokka asked once, to no reply.) 

Sometimes he coaxes a tale or two out of Blue from his travels, and though Blue has yet to master the art of storytelling, he does let slip more telling details than he probably realizes. (Sokka now knows that Blue has been all over the world, for example. And it’s growing increasingly clear that Blue is not from a colony, but in fact from the Fire Nation itself.) 

Blue doesn’t like talking about himself. Whether or not it’s simply due to his hidden identity, Sokka isn’t sure, but nothing can change the subject faster or more bluntly than Blue avoiding a personal question. 

He doesn’t like talking about the war, either. 

Sokka asks about silly things instead. Harmless things. Like his favorite dessert (daifuku), or whether or not he can dance (of course not), or when he started his sword training (six, when most firebenders begin bending training). And those answers say quite a lot. 

It’s not that Sokka’s trying to manipulate or interrogate him. But he doesn’t like having a blank slate as a companion, so he tucks away every piece of information about Blue until he has a surprisingly colorful collection. In return, he offers up parts of himself in the form of childhood dreams and his current worries. 

He talks about Katara, growing up next to the last waterbender in the south. He talks about Toph, how she joined their group with all the delicacy of a saber-tooth moose lion. He talks about Aang, with his child’s spirit and monk’s wisdom. Blue drinks it all in. 

It’s almost enough to distract Sokka from his rising anxiety. But the more time passes, the more frequently the question pounds in his head: where are they? 

Sure, they can’t travel as quickly as Appa. But it’s been  _ days _ . 

He spends an afternoon staring at his map and scribbling on Blue’s slate, calculating and re-calculating their estimated speed with various forms of travel. He’s in the middle of calculating how long it would take to get here from Ba Sing Se on a wooly-pig—for the third time—when Blue snatches the chalk from his hand. 

“Hey!” Sokka protests. 

Picking up the slate, Blue writes: “You need to give it a break. You’re driving me crazy.” 

Sokka splays out on the floor with a sigh. “I can’t help it. I’m worried about them, and there’s nothing else to do.” 

“Hunting?” Blue suggests. 

“We already have enough dried meat for days.” 

“A swim?” 

“My hair won’t look right if I get it wet twice in one day.” 

Sokka looks up at a hollow, clunking sound to find Blue hitting himself in the forehead with the slate. It’s more amusing than staring at the dirt floor, so he lets it happen. 

Blue stops eventually, tapping the slate softly against the chin of his mask instead. Then he writes: “Do you want a sword lesson?” 

Sokka’s eyes go wide. He jumps to his feet. “Yes! I do!” Then he frowns, his brain catching up with him. “Can you do that right now? With your side?” 

Blue shrugs. He tucks the slate under one arm and grabs his scabbard with the other, then leaves the cave without looking to see if Sokka’s following. 

Sokka is definitely following. He has continued to borrow Blue’s swords for handling the meat—to Blue’s apparent dismay—but that’s not the same thing as  _ wielding _ them. 

He trots after Blue, thoroughly distracted from his worries. Appa’s apparently bored, too, because he decides to amble after them. 

They end up in a small, relatively flat clearing. Appa settles down on one side to watch. 

Blue tugs his gloves off and tucks them into his waistband. Sokka glances at his bare hands curiously—pale, long-fingered, and unremarkable. Sokka idly wonders why he’s kept the gloves on all this time. 

Unsheathing his swords, Blue hands one to Sokka, then pulls out his slate. “These are meant to be used as two halves of one sword. But since you don’t have any sword experience, I think I can start you on the basics with just one. Now watch how I hold it.” 

Sokka nods eagerly. Blue corrects his grip on the handle, demonstrating a looser hold than Sokka expected, and shows him a simple sideways slash a few times, exaggeratedly slow. Sokka watches carefully, eyes tracking the tilt of Blue’s wrist, the shifting of muscles in his back and arm. Blue steps back—almost offensively far away—and gestures for Sokka to try. 

He goes for it, swinging the blade through the air. The balance of the sword surprises him, throwing his movement into a pitiable imitation of Blue’s demonstration. But Blue doesn’t stop him immediately, just stands there and watches. 

Sokka hefts the sword in his hand, trying to get a feel for it. He holds it horizontally, then vertically, moving slowly and feeling the weight shift. His second try at the sideways slash goes a little better, and his third feels even smoother. 

Blue nods at him in understated approval. He holds a hand up for Sokka to stop and starts to step forward. 

_ Cheep, cheep.  _

They both turn towards the sound. 

One of those spirits-damned hopping llamas is staring at them.  _ Cheep _ , it says, long ears twitching. 

“Go away, you,” Sokka grumbles at it. Then he starts wondering how fast a hopping llama is. How long would it take for one of those to get here from Ba Sing Se..? 

The llama hops closer in a series of little jumps.  _ Cheep? _ it repeats, its large eyes curious and unafraid. Blue steps closer to it, waving his free arm as if to shoo it away. It hops back a tiny step and tilts its head at him. 

It’s kind of cute, to be honest. Just like Foo Foo Cuddlypoops had been, though the baby moose lion also turned out to be a harbinger of doom. 

“Go on, shoo!” Sokka calls half-heartedly. 

But the llama refuses to budge, watching them with its long tail flicking casually in the air. 

Blue sighs and advances quickly, the arm not holding his sword waving in front of the llama’s innocent face. That turns out to be a mistake. 

The llama strikes in a blur of motion. 

Blue yelps, flinching back and bringing his single sword in front of him. He tucks his free hand under his armpit. 

“Did it just  _ bite _ you?” Sokka asks. 

Blue spares him a glance, and Sokka can only imagine the dark look he’s getting right now. He tries to hold in a giggle, he really does. But it’s a losing battle. 

“Did the widdle hopping llama hurt you?” he snickers. The llama in question looks the same as it did before: curious, calm, and cute. 

Blue takes his hand back out to send him another crude gesture, which is when the llama surges forward again. Blue dances back, sweeping his sword in front of him. He doesn’t hit the llama, but Sokka thinks it was only meant as a warning anyway. 

Either way, it’s hilarious to watch. 

“Look out!” he cries, forcing the words out between giggles. “The llama is coming for you!” 

And it really is, now. Blue is forced to retreat, circling the clearing as the llama hops aggressively towards him. Its long neck darts towards him, furred muzzle snapping. 

“On your left! Give him the old one-two!” 

If Blue were speaking to him, Sokka has no doubt he’d be getting cussed out right now. As it is, Blue can’t spare a moment to write down any insults. Sokka intends to take full advantage of this. 

“In this corner, we have an injured fugitive only half-armed!” he calls, mimicking the announcer at the earth rumble. “And in this corner, we have the undefeated champion! It’s ferocious! It’s furry! It’s  _ adorable _ ! The hoppingggg llaaamaaa!” 

Blue throws down his sword. 

“Wha—” Sokka’s eyes bug out. 

Not only has Blue managed to dodge the next bite, but he’s also thrown his arms around the llama’s neck and swung up onto the animal’s back! Everyone’s frozen for a moment. 

“Oh, no,” Sokka says. “This isn’t going to end well.” 

The llama takes off. Turns out that the hopping it had done so far?  _ Nothing _ compared to when it was really trying. That thing could jump over Appa—two Appas! Sokka stares as Blue bounces around the clearing, clinging to the angry llama’s neck. This could actually end quite badly, he realizes. Shit. Uh, what to do, what to do. 

He turns to his best asset in these trying times. 

“Appa, buddy, help a guy out, huh?” 

Appa snorts, eyes following the llama up and down, up and down. Then he obligingly lets out an ear-splitting low that rustles through the surrounding trees and nearly deafens Sokka. 

The llama freezes in place, halfway poised for another jump. Its ears quiver. Blue quickly slips off its back, landing clumsily on the ground and darting over towards Appa. 

They all watch the llama. It doesn’t move for a full minute, at which point it turns and leaps away in the blink of an eye. Only the mess of hoofprints and footprints in the grass tells Sokka he didn’t just hallucinate the whole thing. 

“Well,” he says loudly, looking Blue up and down. He splits into a grin. “Did you have fun?” 

Blue smacks him in the shoulder and stomps over to retrieve his sword from the ground. 

Sokka giggles some more, now that he knows Blue isn’t going to fall and break his neck. But he stops when Blue snatches away his other sword and heads in the direction of the cave. 

“Wait!” Sokka runs after Blue. “We barely got started! Come on,” he whines, cutting off Blue’s path. “I didn’t  _ mean _ it.” 

He knows Blue could get by him if he really wanted, even injured, so he’s encouraged when Blue just gives him a half-hearted shove. Sokka smiles winningly and bats his eyelashes. “Pleeeeease teach me some more?” 

_ Thunk _ . Blue drops his masked face into his hand. 

“It’ll give me something to do besides worrying about my friends,” Sokka admits, more seriously. He hesitates before voicing the next part. “I know that’s why you offered.” 

Blue lifts his head from his hand and watches Sokka for a moment. Then he lets out a gusty sigh. 

“Yes!” Sokka pumps an arm in the air and pulls an unresisting Blue back into the clearing. “You’re the best mysterious swordbending friend ever!” 

* * *

“Hey, is there anyone missing you?” Sokka asks him out of the blue as they’re eating dinner one night. 

Zuko tilts his head lazily, not looking up from his bowl. 

“I mean, my friends know we’re supposed to meet here. But you definitely didn’t know you were coming here.” Sokka waves his chopsticks around the cave illustratively. “So is there someone back in Ba Sing Se who’s wondering where you are?” 

Zuko sighs. He’s been trying to avoid this discussion. He pulls his slate over and writes, “Yes. There is someone.” Just one person. 

Uncle is no doubt worried sick at this point. Especially given that Zuko had disappeared right after their tense conversation on the Avatar and destiny. Zuko wonders what Uncle must be thinking about him. 

Sokka’s craning his neck to read the slate, Zuko having been too caught up in his thoughts to show it to him. “You think they’re worried?” 

Zuko just nods, guilt gnawing at him. He thinks about how happy Uncle had been brewing tea in the city, looking for all the world like a harmless old man enjoying a quiet life.  _ And I had to mess it up, like I always do.  _

Sokka sets his bowl down and smiles a little. “You know, in a way it’s nice to have someone to worry about you. Like, my sister, she can be a real nag sometimes. Kind of a mother hen. But it’s because she cares, you know?” 

He knows Uncle cares. It’s hard for Zuko to understand, and even harder for him to accept it and return it, but he does know. 

_ Would Father be worried? _ Zuko wonders out of nowhere.  _ Would Father care?  _

He hugs his knees to his chest and wishes he could unthink that thought. But he doesn’t try to tell himself,  _ Yes, of course _ , though that’s his first instinct. He considers the question even as the doubt stabs into his lungs. 

He pictures Uncle’s face when he found Zuko alive after Zhao’s attempted assassination, and he tries to imagine his father standing there instead. He remembers the gruff worry in Uncle’s voice when he woke Zuko in that ghost town, and he tries to hear it in his father’s voice. He tries to picture his father accompanying him for three thankless years at sea. But it’s just Uncle, all Uncle. 

_ Did Father  _ ever  _ care?  _

“I miss home.” Sokka interrupts his thoughts, sitting back from the fire. “Don’t get me wrong: I love traveling all over the world. It’s been amazing, visiting all these different places, meeting people, trying new food!” He shrugs and finishes simply: “But I miss home. Nothing like it.” 

“Tell me what it’s like?” Zuko writes. It must have been the right thing to say, because Sokka lights up. 

“I bet you’ve never seen anything like it, man! Ice and snow and water as far as the eye can see. It’s just so peaceful and beautiful. But it can be harsh, too. I love that. I mean, the ocean is freezing, and the cold can kill you, but then you can sit wrapped up in furs with a hot drink and just look up at this endless sky…” He trails off, a faraway look in his eyes. 

A crackle of the fire brings him back. “I mean, I guess warmer weather can be nice sometimes. You get to have a sleeping bag to yourself, for one.” He grins over at Zuko. “At home, we wouldn’t just be sharing a blanket; we’d be full on  _ cuddling _ , man.” 

Feeling his cheeks heat, Zuko ducks his head and hopes Sokka doesn’t expect a response. Cuddling? Seriously? Just thinking the word is embarrassing. 

Sokka coughs. “By ‘we’ I mean people. Like my tribe. Not necessarily…” He clears his throat. “Anyway. We do have to have a pretty tight-knit community, all working to support the tribe and then surviving the winter cooped up together. That’s when those stories come in handy.” 

Zuko thinks about the tiny village he had, well, sort of invaded, and he tries to match that up with what Sokka’s describing. Enjoying the stars, he gets. Story time, definitely. Freezing cold, not so much. 

Sokka gives him a nudge with his shoulder. “So, what about you?” When Zuko hesitates, he clarifies: “You don’t have to tell me where you’re from. Just… what it’s like. If you want. Do you miss it?” 

“So much,” Zuko scrawls without thinking. His cheeks burn at his eagerness, but Sokka just smiles and waits. 

“It’s really different from your home. Hot and sunny. But what I really miss is the summer thunderstorms. Mother—” He pauses, surprised by the pang of grief her memory brings, even now. “Mother would let me run around in the warm rain until the thunder got too close, and then she’d make me come inside to dry off. We’d sit by a window together and watch the lightning.” 

“Sounds nice,” Sokka says. “Kind of like how I’d watch snowstorms with my mom.” 

“I bet my storms were louder.” 

Sokka laughs. “Yeah, I bet they were. Though you’d be surprised how loud wind can get.” 

_ Not so surprised _ , Zuko thinks wryly.  _ I  _ have  _ met Aang _ . But of course he can’t say that, so he continues writing about his good memories of home instead. “When it wasn’t storming, we liked to visit the turtleducks.” 

“Turtleducks? Sounds cute.” 

“They are. So cute.” Zuko finds himself smiling behind his mask. 

“And uh, would your, your dad go too?” 

The smile drops. “No,” he writes firmly. “Father thought it was stupid.” 

“Oh. Well that’s… kind of mean.” 

Feeling reckless, feeling  _ angry  _ on behalf of the turtleducks, Zuko writes: “Well, my father is kind of mean.” 

“I’m sorry, man,” Sokka says awkwardly. He looks more concerned than seems really appropriate for such a mild complaint. 

Zuko shrugs. 

“But, your mom, she sounds nice,” Sokka offers. 

“She was.” 

“...What happened?” 

And wouldn’t Zuko love to know. 

“I don’t know for sure.  ~~ But I think she had something to do with Grand ~~ ”—Zuko slashes a line through that half-formed thought and tries again. “ ~~ I think she saved my life from ~~ ”—he crosses it out again and growls in frustration. 

“I’m sorry,” Sokka says again. “How old were you?” 

“Twelve.” 

Sokka just nods. They sit for a moment, memories of mothers filling the space between them. 

“After my mom died,” Sokka says softly, “home was so different. My dad was so… And Katara was…” He sighs. “I can go back to my tribe some day, feel the cold and see the stars again, but—I think home, for me, is really my family. And I still have one, and I love them, but it’s never been the same without Mom.” 

Zuko nods as though he understands, but in actuality he isn’t sure he does. He misses his mother and his happy memories with her, with Lu Ten and Uncle Iroh. But mother and Lu Ten aren’t anywhere to come home to, and Father? Azula? Would going back to them feel like coming home? 

He pictures himself walking the halls of the palace, with its echoing hallways and closed doors. He thinks of his Ba Sing Se apartment, comfortable and bland. He thinks of rolling waves and creaking metal. Where is home for him? 

Something like grief is unfurling in his chest again. There’s a strange burning sensation in his eyes. As the fire begins sputtering before them, the prickle gives way to a tear dripping, hidden, down his unscarred cheek. He’s not sure if his other eye can still cry. 

He tries to hold it in. Sniffs quietly, hoping the tiny noise will go unnoticed. 

Sokka notices. Of course he does. He doesn’t say a word, just slings an arm over Zuko’s shoulders, casual as can be. Zuko lets him. 

He lets Sokka hold him, and—silently, unmoving, so softly that it hardly counts—he cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really interested to hear your thoughts/feedback on this chapter!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life can't always be llamas and camping; time for things to get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Talk to me on Tumblr](https://duck-is-duck.tumblr.com/)!

Sokka feels kind of raw the next morning—but in a sort of good way, like he’d just scrubbed clean a month’s worth of dirt. Talking about home and Mom had been so bittersweet. 

Blue had really opened up, too. Normally Sokka has to drag every bit of personal information out of him, but to his surprise Blue had voluntarily talked about his childhood, about his mom. About his dad, who sounds like a real dick. Not that Blue had outright said so, but Sokka can read between the lines. 

Thinking about this during breakfast, Sokka wants to ask Blue if he has other family, or if he’s just stuck with a dead mom and a distant dad. But the cozy, safe atmosphere surrounding their nostalgic conversation had disappeared overnight. It doesn’t feel right to blurt out a personal question in the bright light of the morning. 

Besides. He doesn’t want to make the guy cry again. 

Maybe they need a day off from emotions. They could do some more sword-fighting, maybe go for a swim or lift big rocks over their heads or something. You know: tough person stuff. 

And for that, they’re going to need meat. Sokka throws out a casual goodbye to Blue, who’s pretending to stretch out his side (Sokka’s pretty sure he’s just sunbathing; the guy’s like a cat, seriously). Then he’s trotting off into the trees for another easy hunt. 

He’s following a set of tracks when he catches a flash of red in the corner of his eye. 

Fire Nation soldiers! 

It’s just two of them, helmetless, one leaning against a tree trunk while the other squats casually. Sokka quickly crouches behind a thick bush, hoping they hadn’t seen him. 

When no one comes charging through the undergrowth at him, he crawls forward carefully until he can make out their conversation. 

“—get off the ship for a while.” 

“Yeah, I’m taking every chance I can get to stand on solid ground before we ship out tomorrow.” 

“Yep.” 

There’s a pause long enough that Sokka begins to wonder if this is a waste of time. 

“So who’s the high-profile prisoner we have onboard?” 

Now we’re talking. 

“You haven’t heard already?” 

“All I know is that the princess doesn’t like when people talk about him in front of her, so no one really wants to say anything.” 

“Oh, yeah, that would do it.” 

“Is it… the Avatar? I did hear a rumor that he was in Ba Sing Se.” 

Sokka’s ears perk up. He listens harder. 

“Wow, you’re really out of the loop, huh?  _ That  _ news is all  _ over  _ the place! Princess Azula herself is declaring it loud enough to reach the spirit world!” 

“What? What news? C’mon, spill!” 

“Well… I’ll save the best for last. First off, our prisoner is none other than General Iroh himself.” 

Iroh? That sounds familiar… 

“No!” 

“Yes! You know how he was declared a traitor a while back? Him and Prince Zuko?” 

Oh, right. Jerkbender’s uncle. He’s a general? 

“Yeah, but I didn’t really believe that when I heard it. Well, I believed it about Prince Zuko, obviously. Doesn’t banishment kinda imply treason?” 

“Yeah, that kid was never coming back. But it turns out they’re both traitors. Because General Iroh  _ attacked Princess Azula _ in Ba Sing Se! While she was fighting the Avatar, no less!” 

Wait, what? 

“What!?” 

“I know, it’s crazy. He made his loyalties—or lack of loyalty, really—pretty damn clear. Princess Azula took him down and wants him brought straight back to answer to the Fire Lord.” 

_ Damn. Guess I need to add him to my list of good firebenders after all.  _

“That’s gonna be an awkward family reunion.” 

“No kidding.” 

“Prince Zuko too?” 

“Nah. No one’s heard anything about him in a long time. Besides the stupid shit Bo likes to make up when he’s on the bottle. Like the other day, he tried to tell me Prince Zuko had defected and was secretly a waterbender.” 

“What a drunk.” 

“Yep. Try not to mention the prince around the princess, either, though. Makes her trigger-happy.” 

“Why? Is she worried he’s gonna try to fight her for the birthright?” 

“Are you kidding? Don’t you know Prince Zuko is a terrible bender? Real shame on the royal family.” 

_ Really? I know Azula’s scary good, but he didn’t seem that bad. Still scary, definitely.  _

“I mean, not anymore he isn’t.” 

“Huh?” 

“Not a shame anymore. Since he isn’t part of the family.” 

“Oh, yeah. ...Actually, I’m not sure if he was ever officially disowned. Are you?” 

“...Huh. I’m not sure either. To be honest, I don’t really know why he was banished.” 

“Dishonor, disrespect, cowardice—” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But  _ specifically _ .” 

“I bet he knocked up some noble whose family kicked up a fuss.” 

“At that age?” 

“What, are you saying your balls hadn’t dropped by thirteen?” 

“Aw, shaddup, ya lout.” 

They trade insults back and forth a few times. Sokka resists the urge to fidget, hoping they’ll get back to spilling crucial intel. Seriously, Zuko was banished when he was thirteen? And what’s all that about dishonor and cowardice? Something’s messed up with that guy’s backstory. 

“Anyway, so, the princess didn’t just capture General Iroh. She  _ took over Ba Sing Se _ .” 

_ No.  _ Sokka’s restlessness evaporates as his blood freezes in his veins. 

“No way! Completely? I thought that drill failed.” 

“Yeah, and then she took it down from the  _ inside _ . I’m telling you, Ba Sing Se is ours, now.” 

“Holy shit. I thought that city would never fall. Wasn’t it General Iroh who—” 

“Held it under siege for six hundred days? Yep.” 

“And Princess Azula got it in, what, weeks? This is huge news!” 

A chuckle sends further chills down Sokka’s rigid spine. 

“No, that’s not the big news.” 

“Seriously?” 

Fuck. There’s more?

“There’s more.” 

There’s an agonizingly long pause. Sokka doesn’t blink, doesn’t even breathe, waiting for the next blow. 

“C’mon, tell me!” 

“Alright, alright. You know how I said Princess Azula was fighting the Avatar?” 

“Yeah, and?” 

Another pause. Sokka is practically vibrating with tension. 

“And she killed him. With one strike of lightning.” 

Sokka can’t hear any more. There’s a strange ringing in his ears. Words echo in a terrible rhythm drumming against the insides of his skull: “She killed him. She killed him. She killed him.” 

No. It can’t be true. It can’t be. 

He comes back to himself some time later to find that the soldiers are gone. He has to move. He has to do something. He turns around and forces himself to walk cautiously, conscious that the forest could be crawling with more soldiers. 

But he only makes it halfway back to the cave before his nerves overcome him and he runs the rest of the way. 

* * *

Sokka looks like shit when he stumbles into the cave entrance. Zuko stares at him in surprise. His hunting trip can’t have gone  _ that _ badly, right? 

“Blue,” Sokka mumbles, wild gaze casting around until he spots Zuko. “Blue, we gotta—we have to do something. We have to go.” 

Zuko hurries to find his slate as Sokka continues spilling out words. 

“I heard soldiers. Fire Nation. They were talking about Ba Sing Se.” He stops. 

“What happened?” Zuko writes hastily. 

“They said…” Sokka takes a breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “They said Princess Azula has taken over the city.” 

Zuko’s jaw drops. Azula? 

“She took it down from the inside, they said.” 

_ Shit. I can believe it.  _

“And they were taking someone back to the Fire Lord,” Sokka continues dully. “General Iroh.” 

No. No. Zuko feels his chalk snap in his hand. 

“I guess he attacked Azula in Ba Sing Se while she… while she was fighting Aang.” Sokka looks down and swallows hard. “And they said. They said that she killed him.” 

Time stands still.  _ Uncle. No.  _

Sokka looks up at him, tears shining in his eyes. “They said she killed Aang.” 

And time resumes with a jolt. Zuko sucks in a ragged breath. Fuck. Relief floods through his suddenly weak limbs—horrible, awful, guilty relief, because Azula just  _ killed the Avatar _ . 

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. It’s exactly the sort of ruthless, nigh-impossible thing she would do to please Father. But all that time Zuko had chased the Avatar, he had never wanted to kill the kid. Never really let himself think about what might happen to a child Avatar brought to the Fire Lord in chains. 

But now he knows the Avatar’s name; he’s ridden Aang’s pet, spent time with one of Aang’s best friends, and heard stories about a goofy, energetic, eternally optimistic kid. Looking at Sokka’s devastated face, the sickly relief drains away until Zuko can only feel regret. 

Sokka slams a fist into his palm, suddenly fierce. “But maybe they were lying, or they heard wrong. It could just be propaganda. I can’t believe it—I  _ won’t  _ believe it. Not yet.” 

Zuko isn’t sure saying “I’m sorry” makes sense in the face of that. “What do you want to do?” he ends up writing. He knows what _ he  _ wants to do—rescue Uncle—but he owes it to Sokka to try and help him, too. 

Sokka looks at him steadily. “I want to break General Iroh out of prison.” 

Wait, what? 

“We ran into him a few times. He’s Prince Zuko’s uncle,” Sokka explains, thankfully not noticing Zuko twitch at the sudden mention of himself. “I guess he’s officially a traitor to the Fire Nation now, and he was there when Azula… fought Aang. So he’s our best shot at getting some firsthand information, fast—the ship has to be really close-by, and they don’t leave until tomorrow. Are you in?” 

Zuko nods eagerly. If Sokka wants to help with the prison break, Zuko isn’t about to turn him down; he may prefer to work alone, but he can’t risk failure when it’s Uncle’s life in the balance. 

“Good. Once we know more, then we can figure out the rest.” Sokka frowns at him. “I know you don’t really have a stake in this…” 

“I’m in,” Zuko writes firmly. “I want to help you.” He hesitates, then decides to be honest. Vaguely. “And I know General Iroh already.” 

This earns him another frown, but Sokka visibly sets aside his questions. “Okay. Then let’s plan. What do you know about Fire Nation ships?” 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for another prison break.

Blue knows a frankly suspicious amount about Fire Nation ships, but Sokka doesn’t care. All it means is that he’s one step closer to getting the information he needs—the  _ truth _ he needs, because what he heard isn’t true. 

Aang is probably fine. And surely any news about the Avatar’s bending teachers would be gossip-worthy, too, so no news about Katara or Toph must be good news. They’re probably still on their way to the rendezvous point. They should’ve gotten here by now. Why haven’t they gotten here by now? 

He throws himself into planning, making Blue sketch out diagrams of typical military ships and weighing the odds that Princess Azula herself will be on the ship. If she is, this is going to be a lot harder. He plans for both scenarios. 

“Can you go?” Sokka asks Blue seriously, then immediately cuts him off mid-nod. “Think about it first. You’re still recovering. If you can’t fight or keep up, you’re going to be more of a liability than an asset.” He knows he sounds cold right now, but he doesn’t have time to be kind about it. 

Blue writes his answer this time. “I’m sure. I’ll be slower and not as good in a straight fight, but we need stealth more for this anyway.” 

Sokka concedes the point. “Okay. I trust you to know your limits,” he says. 

Blue sits up straighter at that. 

“ _ And _ ,” Sokka says, jabbing a finger into Blue’s still bandaged chest, “I trust you to tell me if you need to back out at any time. It will  _ not  _ help for you to get captured too. Better to cut our losses and try again.” 

Crossing his arms, Blue nods begrudgingly. Sokka narrows his eyes, hoping Blue means it. He really can’t afford to lose his only ally right now. Nor does he want his friend to get captured, of course. 

“Alright, so let’s go over Plan Number Five again, and then we should try to get some rest before dark.” 

* * *

Sokka doesn’t sleep at all—not that he’d really expected to. He has a reputation for being able to sleep through anything, but this is his stupid plan they’re about to execute. He’s about to lead a reckless two-man prison break, potentially under the Fire Nation princess’ nose, to rescue a prisoner who may be more trouble than he’s worth. How could he sleep with that on his mind? 

Instead, he spends the time thinking about Katara, Toph, and Aang. They can take care of themselves, he knows. They’re all amazing benders, and they probably stuck together. But they’re also just kids. They’re just his little sister and his friends. 

_ I should never have left them behind _ , he thinks, not for the first time. 

It feels like forever, but eventually night falls. He and Blue prepare in silence. Sokka reties his hair tightly and checks that his clothes won’t flap around. He straps Blue’s back scabbard on for him so he doesn’t injure himself twisting around, tightening it carefully around the bandages. Blue practices drawing his swords a few times, his movements cautious. 

“Ready?” Sokka asks. He doesn’t need to ask again if Blue’s sure; if nothing else, the last few days have taught him that Blue has a stubborn streak an ocean wide. Neither of them are backing down from this one. 

Blue nods, then steps forward and awkwardly places a hand on Sokka’s shoulder. He gives a little pat and steps back. 

“Uh, thanks, bud. You too.” Despite the tight handle Sokka has on his emotions right now, he feels a tiny glow of warmth at the stilted show of camaraderie. 

He’s glad he doesn’t have to do this alone. 

* * *

Sneaking onto the ship is easier than it should be. Security should be tight—they shouldn’t even be anchored this close to the shore, for Agni’s sake. Zuko’s shaking his head in disappointment when he realizes what this means: either it’s a trap or Azula is  _ not _ on board. He can’t point this out to Sokka without his slate and chalk, but he supposes it doesn’t change their plans either way. 

They leave Appa at the treeline with strict instructions to remain hidden, then head for the shore. The water is deep here, not so much a beach as an underwater cliff. It means Zuko and Sokka have to swim nearly as soon as they enter the water, but that’s balanced out by the nearness of the ship. 

Swimming is… not comfortable. For one, it’s difficult to breathe as the water laps up behind the mask. The water is cool, which is a balm against his stinging side, but he can’t figure out a way to swim without aggravating his wound. He tries to keep his torso as stiff as possible without drowning.  _ You just have to make it to the ship _ , he tells himself.  _ And then climb up. And then find Uncle and free him. Maybe fight a little. And then swim back.  _

Luckily Zuko isn’t one to back down from insanity. 

When they get to the ship, Zuko climbs the anchor chain first. He scoots up just enough for Sokka to climb up beneath him, and then they both cling to the chain and try to wring water out of their clothes. The strain this puts on his burn is not exactly comfortable either, but he just grits his teeth and keeps his breaths steady. He has to do this for Uncle. 

They finally get to a point where Zuko thinks their clothes won’t give them away once aboard, whether from the sound of dripping water or from a trail of puddles. He shimmies up and peeks carefully over the side. He sees one pair of patrolling guards heading away from them and hears a couple voices from around a corner. 

He lands on the deck lightly, drawing his swords before his feet finish touching down. His eyes dart around the empty deck. He has almost certainly never been on this particular ship, but it’s startlingly recognizable—the shape, the color… 

He blinks away the pang of familiarity. This isn’t his ship. He’s not here as a Fire Nation prince. He needs to focus. No one has come running, so he motions to Sokka to follow him up. 

Zuko keeps his eyes forward, trusting Sokka to keep an eye on their backs. It’s an odd feeling. He was alone the last time he snuck in to rescue someone from his own nation’s military; now here he is with the same mask and same swords but with an ally to rely on. He could get used to this. 

He leads the way down a corridor, pausing regularly to listen. A few times, he jumps in surprise at a scuffing sound behind him when Sokka misplaces his feet. Sokka isn’t as silent as Zuko is, though he’s passable. 

No one’s around yet, but that could change at any moment. They need to accomplish their first objective. 

_ “First priority is locating disguises,” _ he had written to Sokka earlier that evening. 

_ “Really? I thought the point was stealth—no one sees us,”  _ Sokka had answered, brow furrowed as he stared at the ship diagrams before them. 

_ “It’s best if no one sees us,” _ Zuko had agreed,  _ “but if they catch even the smallest glimpse and we’re not even wearing red, the alarm goes up.”  _ Much as his pride hurt to admit it, Zuko had to account for his wound.  _ “I’m going to be slowed down by my injury. You’re not trained in stealth. Neither is General Iroh. So chances are good we’re going to have to rely on disguises at least a little.”  _

Sokka had conceded the logic, so the first thing Zuko does is find an armory. Given the time of night, it’s deserted; everyone’s in bed or on night shift patrol. They skip the full suits of armor, but Sokka covers his blue clothes with a heavy red overcoat, and Zuko finally gets a new shirt. He slips it on quickly and turns around so Sokka can reattach his scabbard. He keeps his own gloves and shoes, though he casts a wistful look towards some heavy duty boots—but they’re in too much of a hurry. 

Lastly, Zuko tosses Sokka a helmet. Then he reaches for a second helmet. His heart’s pounding, but thankfully Sokka turns his back without hesitation. Before he can lose his nerve, Zuko tears off his mask. He shoves the helmet on and secures the full faceplate. Hidden again, he exhales in relief. 

He hangs the mask on his back, tying it to the straps of his scabbard. It’s disorienting, switching from the confines of a theater mask to an actual helmet, but he does have much better visibility in this. Maybe he should toss out the mask. It might be more trouble than it’s worth, given the wanted posters. 

Sokka has thrown on a scabbard of his own, a long sword now on his hip. He bundles up a third helmet with another red coat, and then it’s time to go. 

_ “If the ship’s big enough, they’ll have a high security cell. If not, he’ll just be in the regular brig,”  _ Zuko had written to Sokka. 

Sokka had nodded and surprised him by saying:  _ “You’ll have to determine that once we get there, and I’ll just follow your lead.”  _

Slipping down another hallway, Zuko wastes part of his attention wondering again why Sokka trusts him. Sokka is shadowing his footsteps, backing up or freezing or tip-toeing as necessary, a beat behind Zuko’s actions. 

Zuko remembers how much trouble he had getting Aang to follow along in Pohuai—at first, anyway. By the end, they were working in near-tandem, both focused on getting out. And Aang had made sure they both made it out. Even after seeing Zuko’s face. Would Sokka do the same?

This ship is nothing like Pohuai. Poor security aside, it’s bigger than Zuko’s old rust bucket. But it’s also nowhere near the biggest model in the fleet. Zuko wonders if that points toward it being Azula’s ship or not. She would get the biggest ship if she wanted it. But would she want the fastest ship instead? He narrows his eyes, trying to think like Azula. (It’s an immediate failure.) 

In any case, he’s pretty sure he knows where a prisoner would be held on this ship. He leads the way there, grateful that they don’t have to sneak past the living quarters. They  _ do  _ have to go pretty deep in the bowels of the ship, though. 

And it looks like the security isn’t completely lax; there’s guards outside the brig. Zuko gives a silent sigh of relief. If it were a trap, there wouldn’t be any visible guards. And if it’s not a trap, then the poor discipline on this ship indicates Azula is _not_ here. 

So it’s just a standard prison break. He can handle that. 

Retreating behind the corner before anyone sees him, Zuko holds up four fingers, one for each guard. Sokka nods, then mimes a person walking with two of his fingers. Disguised sneak attack it is, as planned. 

They both straighten. Zuko takes a deep breath, sheathing his swords. Then he steps out into the hall, forcing his step to be precise, yet loose. Sokka trails at his side a half-step behind him, arms swinging at his sides. 

“Hey,” Sokka calls out lightly to the guards. “How’s the shift going?” 

“What are you doing?” one of the guards asks. He sounds confused, but not necessarily suspicious. Good. 

_ “You don’t need to have a full disguise for it to work; get some details right and let them fill in the rest.” _ That had been a lesson Zuko learned from going to the theater with his mother, though he hadn’t told Sokka that part. Costumes are symbols; the whole point is to make the audience see what  _ they  _ want to see. A certain hairstyle, a prop or two, and you’ve got a recognizable character. Same idea with their Fire Nation helmets, off-duty clothes, and casual approach—he hopes. 

“The lieutenant woke us up; thought he’d heard a noise.” Sokka’s voice embodies an eye roll. “He told us to go check on things.” 

Zuko’s amazed at Sokka’s skill with improvisation; this plan would never have worked with him. They’re nearly level with the guards, whose hands aren’t even on their weapons. One of them’s leaning against the wall. It’s working… 

“You mean Lieutenant Hanako?” The guard frowns, eyes darting from Sokka to Zuko. Uh-oh. 

“Yeah, him,” Sokka agrees. 

Shit. 

Zuko’s on the first guard before he can so much as blink, striking out with a high kick to the chin. His side erupts in pain.  _ Ow. Why did I do that.  _

But the guard drops, and then Zuko’s forced to switch to fists in the close quarters. He ducks a fire blast from one guard and converts it to an upward punch to another guard’s jaw. It’s enough to fell her, but he can’t dodge the second fire blast with Sokka right behind him—out of time, he blocks it with a hard movement of his forearms.  _ Damn, now they know I’m a bender. Guess I’ll roll with it.  _

As he trades close range flames with his third guard, hindered by his injury, a clash tells him Sokka has pulled out his sword to defend against the lone non-bender of the guards. Then a swear and a clatter tells him Sokka has dropped his sword.  _ Someone needs to teach him how to use that before he stabs himself _ , Zuko thinks grimly. 

Zuko quickly dispatches his opponent with a forceful blast to the chest; her armor should protect her from burns, but the power knocks her to the ground, and a swift kick to the head keeps her there. 

By the time he turns around, Sokka has reverted to his favorite weapon and is just bringing it down on the helmet of his guard. A clang, and the guard is out. 

They look at each other, Zuko struggling to remain upright amidst the waves of pain in his side. 

“What gave me away?” Sokka asks. 

Zuko can’t answer without his chalk, so he turns his attention to locating the key ring. With any luck, no one heard the attack. Getting close to them had been a crucial part of that plan, relying on knocking them out without extensive noise or a chance for the guards to call for backup. He’s surprised it worked as well as it did. 

He yanks open the prison door and steps into the room. It’s just like the rest of the ship: all cold, harsh metal and rigid lines. No windows. There are several cells, each with a cot, a chamberpot, and walls of iron bars that offer no privacy. 

Only one cell is occupied. 

Uncle. The relief makes his vision blur. 

Uncle is sitting on his cot, looking calm and unruffled, though Zuko can see the signs that he’d been sleeping moments before. He doesn’t look injured, thank Agni. Just tired. Tense. 

Sokka steps in and pulls off his helmet. Uncle’s eyes widen in recognition. 

“General Iroh,” Sokka says seriously. “I hear you’re a traitor to the Fire Nation.” 

“I have been charged as such,” Uncle responds neutrally. 

“Good enough for me.” Sokka grabs the keys from Zuko’s unresisting fingers and starts trying them in the lock. “We’re getting you out of here.” 

Uncle stands. His gaze passes over Zuko, who’s just standing there like an idiot.  _ I can’t say anything _ , Zuko thinks despairingly.  _ I can’t ask if he’s okay.  _

“Well,” Uncle says to Sokka, “I certainly do not object.” He steps out of the cell with all the dignity Zuko had forgotten he possesses. 

“Well. Good,” Sokka replies uncertainly. “Here.” 

Uncle accepts the bundle from Sokka without a word and pulls the red overcoat over his Earth Kingdom green, then dons the helmet. Zuko instantly wants to take it off him again, wanting to drink in the sight of Uncle’s live, uninjured face—but they really do need to go. At least Zuko’s the only one with a full faceplate. 

Fighting down his unhelpful emotions, Zuko turns and grabs hold of an unconscious guard’s ankles. Bracing himself against the pain, he tenses his muscles and drags her into the brig. Sokka and Uncle follow suit. Once all four guards are inside, Sokka closes the door and locks it. 

“That should buy us some time,” Sokka says. Then he frowns at Zuko. “You good?” 

Zuko nods. He realizes he has one hand pressed featherlight to his injured side, and he lets it drop.  _ Agni _ , but it hurts. He should probably have been on bed rest for another few days at least. 

He’s trying not to overthink the swimming they’ll have to do once they get off the ship, but he shivers at the thought of his body failing him in that black water. His hand drifts to his side again before he can help it. 

“Blue?” Sokka asks quietly. Zuko looks over to see concern in his eyes. “Can you make it?” 

Uncle looks between them. “Is something the matter?” Unlike Sokka, there’s no particular concern in his voice, not beyond the polite sympathy he would give an acquaintance at court. Zuko tries not to let that sting. This isn’t the harmless old man Uncle; there’s a hint of General straightening his spine and sharpening his eyes. And he doesn’t know who Zuko is. 

Sokka chews his lip. “We may need a new plan. I’m going to take a quick look around. Stay here.” He’s gone before Zuko can protest. 

Zuko tries to stand at attention as though guarding the brig. Uncle does the same at his good side. They stand in silence, Zuko aching in more ways than one. Being so close to Uncle, the only family he’s known for so long now, unable to reach out—it’s hard. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees Uncle giving him a slow once-over. Smart to be suspicious of your anonymous rescuer who has yet to speak. 

Uncle’s gaze goes to the scabbard on his back, then drops to where the blue mask is hanging loose beneath the swords. There’s a sharp inhale of breath that makes Zuko turn his head. Uncle’s eyes are full of tears. 

Uncle? Zuko turns towards him instinctively. 

“So, the Blue Spirit,” Uncle says, a wavering smile breaking out on his face. “I wonder who could be behind that helmet.” 

That’s it. 

Zuko takes a step forward and wraps his arms around Uncle. Uncle hugs him back, arms gentle against Zuko’s wounded side, and lets out a shaky breath. Zuko holds on tighter. 

It feels like coming home. 

After what feels like only a heartbeat, he forces himself to step back. Now is not the time; they can’t afford to get caught. He will not let his weak emotions get Uncle captured again. Still, straightening his back and turning to face the hallway is almost physically painful. 

Uncle lets him go but continues staring at him even after Zuko returns to attention. He doesn’t try to speak again, for which Zuko is grateful. He wouldn’t be able to ignore Uncle, and he can’t risk talking now. 

Sokka returns moments later, hurrying down the hallway and beckoning to them. “Come on,” he hisses with a grin. He takes them down a ladder and into a small hold where there’s a… scout boat? 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sokka announces, his grin still in place. Zuko’s glad to see he’s regained some of his usual humor. “Welcome aboard. Please keep all limbs inside the boat at all times as we exit this metal prison. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.” 

He urges Zuko and Iroh into the small craft and starts pressing what looks to Zuko like random buttons on the wall. There’s a hiss, and then the wall in front of them is dropping away to reveal—the water? They’re just barely above the water line. 

Sokka jumps into the driver’s seat of the boat and pulls a lever above his head. How does he know what everything does? Is he guessing? 

“Hold on!” Sokka calls. Zuko braces his side with one arm and grips the boat with the other. The floor beneath the boat begins to move on a track, tipping the boat forward until—with a splash—they drop into the water. No way that’s going unnoticed. 

Sure enough, there’s a shout from up on the deck, but Sokka’s already pulling another lever and stomping down on something—and suddenly the engine roars into life and they’re speeding away. Jerkily, with their speed increasing and decreasing at seemingly random intervals, but they’re moving away from the ship too quickly for the slow-moving soldiers above to react. No Yu Yan on that ship, clearly. 

“Woo hoo!” Sokka yells. He spins the wheel to aim towards shore. “I’m not sure how to beach this thing,” he calls over the noise, “so keep holding on!” 

Zuko sees Uncle brace his legs against the seat in front of him and does the same. 

They land—to put it generously—roughly. The bottom of the boat scrapes the rocky bottom at the shore with an awful sound. Sokka jumps out and offers Iroh a steadying arm to climb over the side. Zuko hops over before Sokka can extend a hand to him as well, though he regrets it when the landing jars his side. 

Sokka leads the way to the trees without another word. Zuko shoots a glance back at the ship; there are more soldiers running around on the deck, but there’s no crafts in pursuit. He wonders if this was their only scouting boat. 

They enter the treeline in a different place than they’d come from. Sokka takes them on a convoluted path that eventually leads back to where they left Appa napping. “Might as well throw them off a little,” he explains. 

Sokka pulls off his helmet as they approach Appa. “Hey, buddy,” he calls quietly. “Ready to go?” 

Appa yawns, looking disgruntled. He eyes the helmeted Zuko and Iroh suspiciously, but a deep sniff seems to settle his wariness. Zuko gives him a pat on the flank as he climbs up. 

Sinking down onto Appa’s fur gratefully, Zuko is glad beyond belief that Sokka found an alternative to swimming back. He’ll have to remember to thank him later. 

Zuko closes his eyes as Appa takes off. They pulled off the rescue; Uncle is safe at his side. He can rest now, just for a little bit. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka drills the Dragon of the West for answers—he's surprisingly forthcoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting early today because I'm on vacation for my birthday and why not? 
> 
> Thanks everyone for posting your ideas on what's going to happen next! Only some of you will be right...

_ Is this guy really related to Zuko? _ Sokka thinks as General Iroh offers to cook dinner. The old firebender had already thanked them several times for the rescue, while  _ smiling _ . The guy was pretty pleasant, honestly, even if he was taking his sweet time getting to the important stuff. 

“Are you sure there is no tea?” the general asks again as he prepares rice to cook. 

“No,” Sokka says sharply. “I mean, yes, I’m sure.” 

“Ah,” General Iroh says sadly. 

To Sokka’s surprise, Blue reaches over and pats General Iroh’s hand briefly, earning him a fond look. They must know each other really well. 

Sokka takes a moment to evaluate Blue’s condition. The prison break had clearly been too much for him; his side was obviously in pain, and he’d conked out on Appa in seconds. That he’d gone anyway to break out General Iroh—well, it tells Sokka something about the strength of their relationship. Or Blue’s sense of honor. Or his pride. It says  _ something _ , anyway. 

Blue had swapped his Fire Nation helmet back out for his usual mask once they got back to the cave, but he kept the stolen shirt on for lack of a better option. It was an interesting contrast, the royal blue against the rust red. He sits propped against the wall, hand resting on his side in what seems to be a developing habit. 

Sokka frowns to himself.  _ I need to remember to change his bandages. They probably shouldn’t have gotten wet.  _

General Iroh sets the pot over their dead fire pit, and Blue lights the fire with a flick of his wrist, not bothering to get closer. The general looks surprised and glances between Blue and Sokka, but he sits back without saying anything and fixes his attention on Sokka. “You have questions.” 

“Yes! Okay, General Iroh, let’s start with—”

“Oh, just Iroh, please.” 

“Iroh, okay—”

“Or you can call me Uncle.” Iroh smiles at him benignly. 

Sokka glares at him. “Just tell me what happened in Ba Sing Se.” 

“Very well. We arrived on a ferry with the other refugees—”

“We?” Sokka interrupts. “Wait, the  _ other _ refugees?” 

“Surely you recall what happened in that abandoned town,” Iroh says solemnly. “That was my niece, Princess Azula, who attempted to hurt all of you. And indeed, succeeded in my case.” 

“You know Katara would’ve healed you, right? If it weren’t for Prince Jerkbender scaring us off.” It’s important to Sokka that Iroh doesn’t think they left him there to die, but he regrets the nickname when he remembers who he’s talking to. 

“Prince Jerkbender?” Surprisingly, Iroh chuckles. “That’s a new one.” He glances over at Blue, still smiling. “But thank you. It’s good to know there is kindness left in this world, even when it is rejected out of fear.” 

“Yeah, whatever.” Embarrassed by Iroh’s sincerity, Sokka hastily waves the words away and gets the conversation back on track. “You were saying about Ba Sing Se?” 

“My nephew did his best to tend to me after my injury, and we made our way into the city as refugees—because that  _ is  _ what we were, at that point,” Iroh emphasizes when Sokka opens his mouth. “We were, and are still, fugitives from the Fire Nation. We fled to Ba Sing Se to start over.” 

Sokka absently scratches his chin with Boomerang, considering this. “Okay, so, what were you doing once you got there?” 

Iroh brightens. “Brewing tea!”

A big sigh comes from Blue, for some reason. Must not like tea. 

“That’s it?” Sokka asks. 

“Yes. We worked in a tea shop in the lower ring for a while, but then I was sponsored to open my own shop in the upper ring!” Iroh deflates slightly. “But I was not quite able to open it before everything else happened.” 

Sokka leans forward in anticipation. 

“It started when my nephew discovered a flier for your lost bison—whom you have clearly found.” Iroh sends a smile towards the outer cave where Appa is sleeping, but then he drops it with a sigh. “Learning that the Avatar was in Ba Sing Se, it… caught his interest.” 

Sokka snorts. “Obviously. He’s been chasing us for ages.” 

Blue reaches out and stirs the rice, even though it hasn’t even started simmering. Sokka ignores his fiddling, but Iroh watches him for a few moments before responding. 

“I cannot speak for my nephew. But please believe me that we had truly begun new lives. I admit that Prince Zuko did not hold any particular interest in serving tea, but…” Iroh pauses, looking tired. “I had hoped this would give him the opportunity to consider his future outside of certain pressures, certain truths he was taught as a child. I…” He stops, shaking his head. 

Sokka gives him a moment, but he’s too anxious to wait much longer for the information he needs. “So he found an Appa poster. Then what?” 

Iroh shrugs, spreading his palms out before him. “I do not know. He disappeared soon afterwards and I hadn’t—haven’t seen him since.” 

“Mysterious disappearance, very convenient,” Sokka mutters. “Okay, so how’d you end up in Fire Nation custody?” 

“I was worried he had run afoul of the Dai Li. I tried to pretend everything was normal, hoping he would come back or I could uncover some information after the surveillance on me lessened. So when I received an invitation to serve tea to the Earth King the day before I was to open my new shop—well, of course I could not decline.” 

“The Earth King? You met with him?” 

“I’m afraid not. You see, Princess Azula had infiltrated the palace. We fought briefly and I was able to escape, but I knew I could no longer pretend. So I went to the Avatar for help.” 

Both Sokka and Blue choke on air at the same time. “You did?!” Sokka exclaims. 

“I was able to convince him and that bright young earthbender that we were on the same side. Apparently, the Avatar had had a vision that his waterbending teacher—your sister, I believe?—had been imprisoned by Azula.” 

“Katara?” Sokka leaps up. “Is she okay?” 

“As far as I’m aware,” Iroh responds, which doesn’t make Sokka feel much better. “The three of us found her in the caverns underneath the palace, imprisoned but unharmed. We were preparing to leave when Azula confronted us with the Dai Li. A battle commenced.” 

Sokka sinks back to the ground, distantly noticing Blue inching closer. “...and what happened then?” 

Iroh is silent for a long time. Sokka can’t stand the wait, but he’s not sure he’ll be able to stand the truth, either. 

“The young Avatar began to enter the Avatar state,” Iroh continues slowly. “And Azula—”

“Shot him. With lightning.” Sokka prays Iroh will deny it. 

He doesn’t. 

“Yes,” he says heavily. “She did. He fell.” 

A gloved hand slips into Sokka’s, but he barely feels it. 

“Your sister and the earthbender were able to escape with him. I stayed behind to delay Azula and the Dai Li, and I was taken into custody the moment I surrendered.” 

Sokka stares into the fire, numbness settling over his shoulders and pressing him into the ground. “So he’s really…” 

Iroh hesitates. “There may be a chance. Your sister has healing powers.” 

“Yeah, but—lightning?” 

“It would likely require the spirits’ blessing, it’s true.” 

“Wait.” Sokka sits ramrod straight. “Katara has spirit water!” 

“She has what?” 

“Water from the Spirit Oasis.” Sokka looks at Blue and explains, “It’s at the Northern Water Tribe. We were there during the Fire Nation invasion, and Iroh was, too.” He looks down. “Princess Yue gave her life there to revive the moon spirit after Zhao killed it.” 

“A terrible and admirable sacrifice,” Iroh agrees. He strokes his chin. “Waterbending healing with water holding special properties… it certainly wouldn’t hurt.” 

Sokka gives a brisk nod. “That’s what I’m going with for now, then. There’s no point in assuming Aang’s dead, not until we know for sure.” 

A squeeze on his hand makes him look down, then over at Blue. Sokka tries to dredge up a smile. 

“I admire your faith, young Sokka,” Iroh says. His smile is no happier. “And I hope you are right. The world needs balance, and the Avatar.” 

Blue reaches for his slate and settles it in his lap to write one-handed. “What about Azula’s plan for you?” he writes, handing the slate not to Iroh but to Sokka to read aloud. 

“She had me put on a ship headed for the capital. As for what would have happened to me there, I cannot be certain.” Iroh sighs. “My brother is not… a kind man.” 

Blue’s grasp tightens on Sokka’s hand. 

Oh shit, Sokka realizes. Iroh is Ozai’s brother? He’s Zuko’s uncle on his father’s side. He eyes Iroh with sudden suspicion, but Iroh doesn’t seem to notice. 

“It is because of him that my niece is the way she is.” 

“Crazy?” Sokka blurts out. Oops. 

Iroh just shakes his head. “I admit I have said the same, before. Azula is a troubled girl, yes. That she is a prodigy, fiercely intelligent and ambitious—those traits are not inherently negative. But her drive to sustain the war, her cruelty, her lack of honor”—Blue freezes at Sokka’s side—“these things have been instilled in her by her father and have twisted her up inside.” 

Sokka frowns. “Does it matter? She’s still the way she is.” 

“Of course it matters!” Iroh insists. “It matters because children cannot be blamed for how they are raised, how they are betrayed by the adults who should have protected them.” His voice wavers, and he pauses to gather himself. “She must face the consequences of her actions, as all of us must do. But there is still hope that she can  _ change _ . That she can learn to be better, kinder; that she can break out of the hate surrounding her and find love.” 

This sounds a little delusional to Sokka. It’s hard to imagine that the terrifying, blue fire-wielding girl could change for the better. 

Blue nudges him with the slate. He’s written: “Do you really believe that people can change like that?” 

Iroh leans forward and places both his hands on top of Sokka and Blue’s clasped ones. (Sokka can’t find it in him to feel embarrassed about this.) “I really do believe it,” is all he says. 

Blue pulls his hand from Sokka’s and moves to stir the rice again. Something’s bothering him, Sokka thinks absently, but he’s too deep in thought himself to pay much attention. 

Iroh gets to his feet with a slight grunt. “I must answer nature’s call,” he says lightly. As he walks out, he adds with strange emphasis: “I may  _ be a while _ .” 

The cave is quiet for a few beats before Sokka groans. “Was that really necessary to share?” 

Blue snorts a laugh, losing some of his rigidity. 

“Man, that was a lot to take in,” Sokka tells him. “What did you think?” 

“Of what?” Blue writes. “All of it?” 

“Yeah, I guess. Do you think he’s telling the truth about Ba Sing Se?” 

Blue nods without hesitation. 

“Interesting. You must really trust this guy.” 

Another nod. 

“Are you ever going to tell me how you know him?” Sokka wonders rhetorically. 

He’s surprised when Blue actually responds, handing him the slate after several minutes of scratching. There’s wiped out chalk all over the place, but the legible part simply reads: “I wish I could.” 

Sokka eyes him. The puzzle in front of him is just begging to be put together. “Can you tell me why you can’t tell me?” 

“Maybe someday,” is the frustrating answer. 

Sokka lets it go for now. He has other things to worry about. 

They’re sitting in silence when Iroh returns, loudly greeting Appa on his way in. He looks between Sokka and Blue with an unreadable expression, then claps his hands together. “Well! What do you two propose we do next?” 

“I need to find my friends,” Sokka replies immediately. “This was supposed to be our rendezvous point, but now… I’m not sure if they’re coming.” 

Iroh slaps his forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot! Master Katara gave me the location of a different rendezvous point.” 

“A different one?” Sokka squawks. “Why didn’t I know about this?!” 

“I don’t believe it was her idea,” Iroh says placatingly. “There was not much time to discuss the details, but she mentioned a report on Water Tribe ships in Chameleon Bay.” He sombers. “Given the Avatar’s injury, it is likely they chose to go there, since it’s closer to Ba Sing Se.” 

Sokka lights up and starts patting at his chest. Blue reaches into Sokka’s bag and pulls out the map, handing it to him. “Thanks,” Sokka says, rolling it out. “Aha! Chameleon Bay! It’s due west of here.” He looks up at Blue, sure the hope must be shining through his face right now. 

Blue nods at him, and Sokka grins. “Okay! We have a plan. Let’s hurry up and eat so we can sleep—we have an early morning tomorrow.” 

“You want us—I mean, me to go with you?” Iroh asks. 

Sokka shrugs. “Do you have anywhere better to go? I’d also like to get more information from you about the Fire Nation, if you’re up for it.” He says this casually, like it doesn’t matter. 

Iroh passes the test when he gives a slight bow and says, “I will help in any way I can.” 

“Blue?” Sokka turns to him. “You don’t have to come, but if we find my sister, she can heal your side. Honestly, I don’t think it’ll heal well on its own.” 

“It’s that bad?” Iroh frowns. 

Blue shrugs, shaking his head for some reason. 

“Yeah, it was pretty bad,” Sokka says absently as he goes back to the map. “He saved my life, actually: took a knife meant for me from this bounty hunter lady. And then he wouldn’t let me go get a doctor and just cauterized the wound himself so he didn’t bleed out.” 

When Iroh doesn’t respond, Sokka glances up. Iroh’s standing with his arms crossed, glaring at Blue. And Blue is stirring the rice, again, looking into the pot like his life depends on it. 

“Well,” Iroh finally says, “I owe you my thanks for helping, ah, Blue, as well.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Sokka waves a hand. “We’re even now.” 

Blue drags himself away from the cook pot to write, “I’d like to come with you.” 

“Great!” Sokka smiles at him. “We’ll find the fleet, Katara will heal you just like I’m sure she already healed Aang, and then we can work on our plan for ending the war. It’s all gonna be fine.” 

Neither Blue nor Iroh answer, but that’s okay. Sokka has hope enough for all of them, now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now you have an idea of what happened in Ba Sing Se after Sokka and Zuko escaped—and why the rest of the Gaang hasn't shown up at the rendezvous point. Is Sokka being overly optimistic, or is everything going to come up roses from now on? And is Zuko ever going to figure out his place in the war and the world?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rendezvous point 2: electric boogaloo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's a short chapter today: the calm before the ~~storm~~ drama.
> 
> A lot of you have been wondering/speculating about Aang seeing Zuko and giving away his identity. The rest of the note below isn't so much a spoiler as it is me confirming/denying that as a plot point, but _if you don't want to read anything even close to a spoiler, skip the rest of this author's note_ (and come back to read it when the fic's done)!
> 
> I just wanted to say that this fic originally spawned from a vague idea I had with pretty much that exact scenario: Zuko joins the Gaang early for some reason while disguised as the Blue Spirit, and Aang (knowing Zuko from Pohuai) does a _terrible_ job keeping Zuko's real identity a secret. Always calling him "Zu-Blue" because he starts to say Zuko and catches himself; making unsubtle jokes about the Fire Nation and royalty, wink wink Zu-Blue nudge nudge; and just in general being very unhelpful to Zuko's attempts to stay masked. I was very amused by the idea. This fic, however, didn't end up going that route, as it turned out to be much more focused on Sokka and Zuko, with the Gaang just in the periphery. I'm a little worried that a lot of people seem to be getting excited for an Aang & Zuko interaction like that! Hopefully where I take the ending of this story doesn't disappoint anyone.

Zuko wonders how he ended up here. Flying on the Avatar’s bison with his uncle and a Southern Water Tribe boy, on their way to meet up with a Water Tribe fleet after fleeing Fire Nation custody. 

Oh, right—it was that stupid lost bison poster. Like Uncle said. 

He glances over at Uncle, who seems to be greatly enjoying the view. Relief rushes through him again, and he thanks Agni that his uncle is okay. Even if he did lose his tea shop before he ever got to open it. 

They haven’t had a chance to talk alone, yet. After Sokka’s mild interrogation had wrapped up the night before, they’d all eaten a quick meal, with Sokka and Zuko awkwardly sharing chopsticks and a bowl. Sokka then bullied him into submitting to a bandage change, which had involved avoiding some  _ very _ stern looks from Uncle (and pretending not to see the poorly hidden heartbreak on his face). 

And then Zuko had promptly fallen asleep again, exhausted from the day. In the morning, Sokka had woken just as early as the two firebenders and barely gave them time for a trip to the bushes before he was herding them onto Appa. 

Zuko  _ wants  _ to talk to his uncle. They hadn’t been apart for very long this time, but it feels like so much has happened, so much has changed. 

He wants to press his uncle for details on what he said about Azula. About Father. 

Uncle loves talking in proverbs, with hidden meanings in everything he says. Zuko’s gotten better at telling when Uncle’s trying to tell him something, but he usually can’t figure out the actual message. It frustrates him; he wishes people would just say what they mean. Instead, Zuko’s left with questions that lead to more questions instead of answers. 

_ Does Uncle really think Father changed Azula, made her—cruel?  _

_ Does Uncle think Father changed me?  _ Did _ Father change me?  _

_ Is this not who I was supposed to be?  _

Zuko shakes his head free of these spiraling thoughts, wishing he could let out his frustration somehow. But he can’t firebend and risk setting Appa on fire; there’s no walls or mirrors for him to punch; and he can’t yell, or Sokka will recognize him and throw him off. Maybe. 

He’s kept his identity a secret this long. What’s a few more Water Tribe warriors? As long as Uncle doesn’t give it away. 

Uncle doesn’t have a disguise. 

The worry is enough to make Zuko dig out his writing materials from Sokka’s bag. He quickly writes, “Can you guarantee Iroh’s safety?” and carefully walks up to join Sokka on Appa’s head. 

“Hey, bud,” Sokka greets him, scooching over to give him room to sit. He’s smiling, but there’s lines of tension at his eyes. 

Sokka accepts the slate, raising his eyebrows as he reads. He glances back at Iroh before asking Zuko lowly, “You really care about this guy, huh?” 

Zuko glares at him, snatching the slate back. 

It makes Sokka laugh, the smile on his face growing more genuine. “I can’t exactly guarantee that we’re heading to a safe place,” he says more seriously, “but I can guarantee that I will vouch for him to any allies we find.” 

Good enough. Zuko nods his thanks. 

“And I’ll vouch for you, too,” Sokka continues, “but…” 

Damn. What’s the catch? 

Sokka makes a face. “Well, it’s pretty suspicious that you won’t take off the mask. I can tell them what I do know about you, but just, think about it.” 

“Leaving the mask on is better,” Zuko writes. Then he thinks he may have given something away, based on the look on Sokka’s face. 

“Hm,” is all he ends up saying, though. 

Zuko stares down at the water far beneath them. They’re crossing the Eastern Sea now. Soon they’ll be rendezvousing with a fleet of Water Tribe ships—warriors who are sworn enemies of the Fire Nation. 

Sokka’s right: a masked, firebending stranger who refuses to speak? No one’s going to trust him. Sokka only does because Zuko accidentally did a few good things. It’s not like Zuko can personally save the lives of a whole fleet or free Appa a few dozen more times. 

Uncle should be safe. Zuko trusts Sokka will keep to his word, and he hopes that that plus Uncle’s natural charm will be enough. Especially if Uncle intends to actually help them. 

That part, Zuko’s still surprised by. Yes, they’d both been declared traitors. Yes, Uncle had stood by his side through everything, even deceiving Zhao multiple times just to help Zuko. Yes, Uncle likes to talk about balance and peace and other idealistic, spiritual stuff that Zuko usually tunes out. 

But actively assisting enemies of the Fire Nation? Providing information to help defeat the Fire Nation in the war? That’s a few steps further than Zuko ever anticipated. And Uncle agreed to it without a moment’s thought. Like he’d already thought about it. Like he’d already _done_ it. 

_ What do I do? _ Zuko wonders. He can’t go against Uncle, not after everything. He’s not exactly welcome in the Fire Nation. But can he remain neutral? Or does he have to pick a side? 

“I’m glad you’re coming with me,” Sokka says suddenly. 

Zuko looks over at him. Sokka’s not smiling anymore, but there’s an unguarded look in his face. 

“I still wish you’d trust me to…” he trails off and shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m just glad I made a new friend. Think I needed one right about now.” 

A new friend. Despite all the secrets, all the history and mess between them. It’s a nice thought. 

Zuko knocks his shoulder into Sokka’s. He thinks Sokka will understand what he means. 

They sit peacefully for a few minutes. The sun is shining on their faces, the air streaming by is refreshingly cool, and Appa is seriously soft. Zuko’s starting to think he could get used to air travel. 

“Hey,” Sokka says abruptly, a frown back on his face. “What gave me away yesterday? To the guards?” 

Oh, that. Zuko returns to his slate. “You mentioned the lieutenant.” 

“So?” 

“Lieutenant  Hanako ,” he writes, underlining the name. “That’s a woman’s name. You said ‘he’ several times.” 

“Damn. Given how you reacted to the whole pronoun thing, I figured I’d better just pick ‘he’ or ‘she’—guess I lost the coin toss,” Sokka grumbles. 

“The ‘ko’ ending is usually female,” Zuko explains. 

“Huh.” 

They fly in silence for another minute. Then Sokka calls out: “Hey, Iroh?” 

“Yes, Sokka?” 

“Why’s Zuko have a girl’s name?” 

Luckily, Uncle’s sudden burst of laughter covers the sound of Zuko’s unbidden growl. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gaang is back together! Plus a few new members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy another chapter, dear readers! We're nearing the end now. :'( 
> 
> P.S. I'm glad you all liked the joke at the end of the last chapter! 😄

The first glimpse of blue sails in the distance releases tension Sokka didn’t even realize he was carrying. They’re still here. His dad might be on one of those ships. Katara and Toph and Aang might be on one of those ships. Maybe it’s all going to be fine. 

The ships are clustered in a bay, and Sokka can see a camp set up on the shore if he squints. But as they get closer, it looks like they’re breaking it down. Figures in blue—beautifully familiar blue—are folding up tents and carrying boxes onto the ships. They all pause more or less as one and turn to look up into the sky; someone must have noticed Appa. 

Sokka resists the urge to wave as he brings Appa down in a clear area of the shore. “Thanks, buddy,” he murmurs to Appa with a pat on the head. 

When he looks up, there’s a whole host of people around them—people he recognizes! And is that—

“Dad!” Sokka yells, jumping off Appa and running straight into his dad’s hug. 

“Sokka,” his dad says, relief evident in his warm tone. Letting him go from the hug, Dad steps back but keeps his hands on Sokka’s shoulders. They grin at each other. “I’m so glad to see you, son.” 

“Is Katara here?” Sokka asks quickly. 

Dad’s smile slips. “Yes, she’s here.” He holds up a reassuring hand. “She’s fine.” 

“And Toph?” 

“Her too.” 

Sokka swallows. Dad isn’t volunteering details and looks like he isn’t sure how to break the bad news. “And Aang?” he asks, dread coiling in his stomach. 

Dad lets out a long breath. “He’s here, too,” he says slowly, “but he’s hurt.” He hesitates, but Sokka’s already jumping back in. 

“He’s alive?” 

Looking surprised, Dad nods. “Yes, why do you..?” 

“I already heard what happened,” Sokka explains grimly. “Azula shot him with lightning, right? And I knew Katara got him out, but…” It feels weird to be relieved, but knowing that Aang’s still alive, that there’s still a chance for him and for the world—his knees wobble a little and he falls back into his dad’s arms. 

“It’s alright,” Dad soothes, rubbing his back. Then he sighs and corrects himself. “Well, it’s not. But we hope it will be. Katara’s working night and day to heal him.” 

“I was so worried,” Sokka manages, his throat tight. 

“How did you hear about what happened?” 

Sokka pulls back and rubs his prickling eyes. He’s just now remembering they’re in the middle of a Water Tribe camp, although the warriors are politely pretending not to watch the reunion. Or maybe not pretending; a lot of them are staring at Appa. Appa’s back, actually. Right—Sokka has a responsibility here. Introductions now, more hugs later. 

“Dad, there’s some people you need to meet.” He extends an arm towards Iroh, who is descending from Appa’s tail with surprising grace. “This is General Iroh. Previously of the Fire Nation.” 

“I am still Fire Nation,” Iroh corrects him mildly. “But my loyalties do not lie with the Fire Lord.” 

“General,” Dad greets, not as warily as Sokka would have expected. His hand isn’t on a weapon, for one. “My daughter told me what you did for them in Ba Sing Se. They weren’t sure you made it out.” Oh, right. 

“I was captured,” Iroh says. “But I was later rescued. I just wish I could have prevented my niece’s actions entirely.” He bows his head. 

“He wants to help us,” Sokka says, glancing around to gauge the listening tribesmen’s reactions. 

“Why?” Dad asks bluntly. 

“This war must end,” Iroh answers. “Many have suffered.” He shakes his head. “If I must be treated as a traitor to my nation for trying to restore balance to the world and save my own people—so be it.” 

“Good enough for me.” Dad steps forward and clasps Iroh’s arm in greeting. “We could use the help.” He turns back to Appa, a single eyebrow raised. “And who’s your… other friend, Sokka?” 

Sokka turns too. Blue is still sitting on Appa, hands deliberately resting in his lap. He doesn’t move a muscle, but his mask returns the group’s curious glances with a challenging gaze. 

“This is, uh.” Sokka falters. This part’s going to be tricky. “Blue.” 

“Blue,” his dad repeats flatly. “And who is he?” 

“Um.” 

Murmurs begin to run through the onlookers. Admittedly, Blue looks a little creepy sitting still and silent, his sword hilts visible and his mask grinning. 

“Look, he’s with me, okay?” Sokka tries. “I can vouch for him.” 

“Alright,” Dad says, not looking away from Blue. “But who  _ is  _ he?” 

Sokka sighs. “I… don’t know.” 

“Explain.” 

“It’s a long story.” 

Dad does turn to look at him then, studying his face. “Do you trust him?” he asks. 

“I do, Dad.” 

“Alright.” Dad glances back at Blue, then wraps an arm around Sokka’s shoulders. “Let’s go find your friends so you can tell that story.” 

Sokka’s spirits lift at the thought of seeing them, but he makes himself wait. “Iroh and Blue should come, too,” he says firmly. 

Dad nods his acceptance. He raises his voice slightly. “Keep packing up. We’ve still got a tide to catch.” The men comply, though not without casting lingering glances at the newcomers. 

Sokka looks back. “Come on, Blue.” 

Blue rises to his feet in one smooth motion and jumps down from Appa. He looks rock steady, his steps light and sure as he follows, but Sokka can hear his breath just slightly faster than it should be. The dumbass is acting like he isn’t injured. Out of pride? More likely wariness. Well, Sokka will just have to show him that he’s safe here. 

Dad leads them all onto his ship and into the main cabin. 

_ Katara.  _ Sokka runs and grabs his sister in a tight hug, ignoring her startled yelp and the water that splashes over his shoes. 

“Sokka!” She hugs him back just as tightly. “You’re okay!” 

“ _ You’re _ okay!” Relief washes over him again. It’s one thing to hear it from Dad; it’s another to see his baby sister whole and healthy. 

Looking over her shoulder, he sees another familiar face. “Toph!” he swoops in to hug her as well. 

“Watch it, Snoozles!” she complains, but she doesn’t fight the embrace. 

“I’m so sorry I left you behind,” Sokka starts, but she cuts him off. 

“Hold on, no one left anyone behind. I made you leave, remember?” 

“I should’ve come back instead of leaving you all under Lake Laogai—”

“No, you shouldn’t have!” Toph smacks his arm, hard. 

“Ow!” 

“Toph’s right,” Katara chimes in with a weary smile. “We had a rendezvous point for a reason, remember? Even though we didn’t end up making it there.” 

“Yeah, but…” Sokka trails off as he catches sight of the bed. “Oh.” 

The small smile vanishes from Katara’s face. 

“How is he?” Sokka asks, hushed. His eyes are fixed on Aang, lying motionless and pale under the covers. 

“He won’t wake up,” Katara answers quietly. “Azula got him with lightning while he was entering the Avatar State. I did the best I could, but—” her voice cracks. 

“Hey,” Sokka says, wrapping his arm around her. “He’s alive. You’ve done a lot already.” 

“He  _ is  _ better,” Toph insists, her voice lacking its usual sharpness. “His heart rate is so much healthier now.” Her hand is wrapped around Aang’s wrist. 

Katara nods. “I think he’ll be okay, but I don’t know what else to do. We just have to… wait.” 

“You’ve done an amazing job,” Dad assures her. “I’m very proud of you. Of all of you.” He looks over the small group of friends. 

“So how’d you find us?” Toph asks Sokka. 

“I told him,” Iroh says. 

Toph jerks her head around. “Uncle!” 

What? 

“Hello again, young Toph.” Iroh’s gentle smile is audible in his voice. 

“General Iroh!” Katara’s eyes are wide. “How did you get away from Azula? We were afraid… well, we thought…” Her train of thought halts as she catches sight of Blue lurking behind Iroh. “Um, who is that?” 

“Who?” Toph demands. She wiggles her toes against the floor, frowning. Sokka remembers what she had told them about wood and realizes she’s actually pretty blind on this ship. 

“They’re wearing a mask. It kind of looks like a demon. The mask, I mean.” Katara gives Blue a considering look. 

“I hear it’s a long story,” Dad puts in. “Why don’t we all get comfortable?” 

They settle in, Iroh accepting Dad’s offer of a chair and the rest of them on the floor. It’s a tight squeeze; even the main cabin on the ship isn’t all that large. Toph doesn’t move from her spot at Aang’s bedside. Katara sits with her back against the bed. Blue sits last, finding a spot in the rough circle in between Sokka and Iroh. 

“So everyone knows why we were under Lake Laogai,” Sokka begins. “I’ll start with Toph and I finding Appa…” He tells the tale with minimal embellishment, relaying a report rather than storytelling; this part of the story is too wrapped up in guilt and stress to have fun telling it. 

He describes that first confrontation with Blue, including the visual detail of his mask and outfit that Toph’s retelling had no doubt left out. Everyone’s eyes (except Toph’s) drift over to Blue, who stiffens even more. 

“Why were you trying to free Appa?” Katara asks. She doesn’t seem to appreciate the shrug she gets in answer. 

“Blue doesn’t talk,” Sokka explains before moving on hurriedly. If someone pushes him on  _ why  _ Blue doesn’t talk, he won’t have a good answer. 

He explains how they located the rendezvous point and shelter, taking a moment to describe the hopping llamas. At that, Katara looks over at Aang with a tiny smile. 

When he gets to the part where he’d found the wanted poster in the village, he hesitates before pulling the poster out of his bag and spreading it out in the middle of their circle. Blue gets a lot more wary looks from Katara and Dad at this point, so Sokka skips ahead to Blue’s explanation. 

“You’re wanted by the Fire Nation?” Katara interrupts, her suspicious look softening into an appraisal. 

Blue nods carefully at her, hands nervously gripping the hem of his shirt. 

“He nodded,” Sokka narrates for Toph, realizing that she and Blue are going to have a lot of trouble communicating. “Remember that time we got sick?” he asks Katara. 

She makes a face. “Ugh. Frogs.” 

“Yeah. Well, remember how Aang didn’t really tell us where he’d gone to get them?” 

“Yeah..?” 

So Sokka breaks the news of Aang’s previous capture by the Fire Nation at a base near Harbor Town. Katara’s eyes widen, and she looks again to Aang’s sleeping form. 

“He got Aang out,” Sokka says, gesturing to Blue, who ducks his head a little. 

This makes Dad and Katara both send Blue considering looks. Iroh looks totally unsurprised, interestingly, and Toph just looks bored. 

“That’s a story I would like to hear,” Dad says. 

Blue shrugs. 

“Yeah, he didn’t give me much in terms of detail either.” Sokka leans over to nudge Blue’s shoulder. “Not much of a talker, this guy,” he jokes. 

Iroh seems to appreciate his humor, at least. 

Then it’s time for Sokka to recount the disaster in that town alleyway. This part he does more colorfully, describing Blue’s sword fight and the bounty hunter interrogation with a wee bit of exaggeration. He hopes the excitement will let him sort of skim past the next part. 

“And then he got hurt and we went back to the cave. So then—”

Dad holds up a hand. “Hold on, Sokka. What was that?” 

Damn. Sokka sighs. Dad always knows when he’s trying to hide something. “Okay, fine. The bounty hunter had a knife, and she tried to gut me.” 

Katara immediately pulls water to her hands. “She what?!” 

“I’m fine!” Sokka raises his hands. “Blue saved me. He jumped in front.” 

And now his family is giving Blue  _ grateful  _ looks, the force of their gratitude making him hunch into himself in apparent embarrassment. Dad looks two seconds away from offering a manly hug. Hopefully this will make the next part easier. 

“Okay, so, don’t freak out,” Sokka cautions, which only earns him unimpressed looks. “Blue’s a firebender.” 

Katara frowns, fiddling with the water globe in her hands, but she doesn’t say anything. 

Dad just blinks and says, “Huh.” 

Okay, that went better than he expected. Maybe saving his life really was enough to make up for the firebending. 

“And that’s relevant because he, uh. Katara, remember the emergency procedures in that book Gran Gran has?” 

Her eyes widen, then narrow again as she jerks her head to stare at Blue. “He didn’t.” 

“Yep. He cauterized the knife wound.” 

Katara leaps to her feet, suddenly energized. Blue tenses but doesn’t move as she steps closer, water at the ready between her palms, and plops down in front of him. “Let me see,” she demands. 

Blue looks to Sokka. 

“Let her help,” Sokka urges him. “I told you she would.” Secretly, he’s glad he didn’t have to ask her to help. His sister is practically compelled to help people most of the time, but he’d worried about the whole “firebender” part. 

When Blue continues to hesitate, Toph speaks up. “Don’t tell me it’s somewhere  _ embarrassing _ ,” she drawls. 

“Toph!” Sokka and Katara say at the same time. Toph lets out a laugh, and from the relieved look on Katara’s face it’s been a while. 

Her teasing works, too, because Blue lifts his shirt to reveal the bandages wrapped around his torso. 

As Katara sets to work unraveling them, Sokka summarizes his talk with the healer and his amateur treatment of Blue’s injury. Katara doesn’t seem too displeased with him, so he must’ve done okay, given the circumstances. 

“Ouch,” Katara winces in sympathy as she pulls away the last of the bandages. “That looks painful.” 

Blue gives a one-shouldered shrug, trying to stay still under her examination.

“You’re really warm,” Katara continues briskly, holding her water in one hand while her other gently probes around the burn. “Is this a normal temperature for you?” For firebenders, she doesn’t say. 

Iroh reaches over to place a hand on Blue’s sternum. “No,” he says after a moment. “It’s a little high.” 

She accepts his judgement without comment and brings her water up to touch Blue’s side. It starts to glow, and Blue sucks in a breath. “Sorry,” Katara says. “Healing can hurt, sometimes. Especially since I’m restoring a lot of damaged nerves here.” 

Sokka would offer him a hand, but he has a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated here. Not when Blue’s already wary of all the strangers. 

“You really should have seen a healer. Did you at least rest? No strenuous activity?” Katara asks, glancing at Sokka for an answer. 

“Sort of?” Sokka rubs at the back of his neck. “I mean, mostly. Except for, uh.” 

“When they broke me out of a Fire Nation prison cell,” Iroh puts in. 

“When you what?” Dad turns to glare at him. 

That leads to the story of Sokka overhearing the soldiers, then making plans with Blue and sneaking onto the ship to rescue Iroh. He tells them Blue and Iroh knew each other already, earning some curious glances, but one look at Iroh’s face tells them they’re not going to get any more detail from him. 

“So then Iroh filled us in on what happened after we left Ba Sing Se. That was last night. We headed straight here this morning.” 

Katara drops her water into a pail by the door, looking drained. “That’s all I can do for now,” she says apologetically. 

“You’ve been healing Aang nonstop,” Dad says to her gently. “You have to take care of yourself, too.” 

Katara doesn’t even look his way, turning her back to him. “Toph, can you pass me the kit to your right?” She pulls out fresh bandages from the kit and efficiently wraps Blue’s torso again. 

Dad watches her with a complicated expression on his face. Something’s wrong—Sokka will have to keep an eye on this. 

When she’s finished, Blue touches his partially healed side experimentally, then leans forward to give Katara a slight seated bow. 

“Thank  _ you _ for saving my idiot brother,” she says to him with a smile. 

Sokka lets that one go, all too happy to hear his sister’s insults. “So what about you guys? I know what happened in the catacombs. What about before that?” 

“Well, first we kicked Dai Li butt,” Toph says with a grin. 

“I expected nothing less.” Sokka grins back at her. 

“And then we decided to invade the palace and confront the Earth King,” Katara says nonchalantly. 

“...okay,  _ that _ I did not expect.” 

Sokka listens raptly as Toph and Katara trade off explaining. He interjects questions at the crazier parts. 

“You took the Earth King on the train?” 

“He really had no idea there was a war going on?” 

“Wait, wait, wait— _ what _ bending?” 

Toph smirks at him with that last question. “Metal. Bending,” she enunciates. 

He gapes at her. Iroh and Blue seem to be doing the same. “I didn’t know that was a thing!”

“It’s not,” Toph says smugly. “I invented it.” She jabs a finger into her chest. “Greatest. Earthbender. In the world!” 

Sokka shakes his head. Bending just gets crazier and crazier. “So wait, where was Aang again?” 

“He was supposed to master the Avatar State at the Eastern Air Temple with a spiritual guru,” Katara explains. “But without Appa, there was no way he could make it. So instead the guru taught him remotely? Through trances or something.” She wrinkles her nose. “He had to eat a lot of onions and bananas. It was weird.” 

“When I got back to Ba Sing Se, he was just coming out of one of those trances. Said he had a vision about Katara being in danger,” Toph says. “That was after she’d been captured by Azula and her creepy friends.” 

“And I appeared on their doorstep not long after,” Iroh finishes. “I believe you know the rest.” 

“Yeah.” Sokka nods. He runs over the new information, glad to fill in the missing gaps. “So Aang finally mastered the Avatar State?” 

They all turn to look at Aang. He remains still under their gazes. 

“I think so?” Katara answers uncertainly. 

“He said he did,” Toph says, “but you know Twinkletoes: he mostly avoided the question. So I’m not too sure.” 

“He looked like he was going into the Avatar State in the catacombs,” Katara says, frowning. “But then…” 

Iroh finishes her thought. “But then Azula struck.” He looks worried. “An injury like that at such a crucial moment—it may have lasting effects.” 

His statement settles over them in silence. 

“I’m sure he’ll be okay,” Sokka says finally, forcing some optimism. “He’s Aang—he’ll bounce back.” Hoping to dispel the dark mood of the room, he claps his hands together. “So! What’s next? Looks like you’re packing up camp.” 

Iroh turns to Dad. “May I ask where you are going?” 

“If the Fire princess has truly taken Ba Sing Se, we need to leave the area,” he answers grimly. 

“Our priority right now is keeping Aang safe while he recovers,” Katara adds. She returns to her place by Aang’s bedside, fussing with his blanket. 

“I’m thinking we could meet up with another fleet further south-east,” Dad continues, unrolling a map out of nowhere to point out a few places. “It’s getting harder to find waters relatively safe from Fire Nation ships these days.” 

Iroh hums and strokes his beard. “For Water Tribe ships, perhaps.” 

Dad looks like he’s trying to hold in an adult version of “duh,” so Sokka steps in to ask: “What are you thinking?” 

Iroh exchanges a glance with Blue and smiles, a steely glint in his eye. “What if you weren’t on a Water Tribe ship?” 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having technically infiltrated a Water Tribe camp in disguise—and with Aang down for the count—Zuko finds himself in a moral pickle.

Zuko can’t relax. After Sokka’s explanations, Chief Hakoda and Katara seemed to accept his presence, but Zuko still feels on edge. If word gets out to the rest of the warriors that he’s a firebender… 

But everyone knows who Uncle is, and they haven’t attacked him yet. They’re even willing to entertain his crazy idea. 

But Uncle’s not wearing a theater mask or refusing to talk. And he doesn’t have to. 

Zuko chased Aang and his friends for months. Fought them and insulted them. He tied Katara to a  _ tree _ , for Agni’s sake (something he looks back on now with shame). And though Uncle had been there while a lot of this happened, he mostly stood on the sidelines; he wasn’t the relentless driving force that Zuko had been. 

It’s one thing for them to honor a truce with a distinguished, polite old gentleman; there’s no way they’d let an angry, scarred failure stick around. 

Even Sokka, who is clearly trying to transcend hundred-year-old lines drawn between the nations, who talks about home and family and how Fire Nation people must be regular people too, who treats  _ Blue _ like a friend—even he wouldn’t accept  _ Zuko _ . 

So Zuko remains on guard as the fleet packs up and sets sail, sitting out of the way in the cabin where Katara had demanded he rest. Footsteps and voices pass the cabin frequently, but no one comes to question him or tear the mask off his face. It feels weird, just sitting here listening to the bustle of activity outside. 

It doesn’t seem to bother the earthbender, Toph, who just puts her feet up and appears to go to sleep. Sokka and Katara are out helping the chief, and Uncle had slipped out with some murmured words about mingling. 

That leaves Zuko to stare at Aang. The Avatar. Lying there, helpless. 

On a whim, Zuko gets up and steps closer, careful not to make any noise. One of Toph’s feet drops to the floor as she suddenly shifts in her seat, but she continues snoring. 

Aang looks so small. His young face is lined with tension and pain. Zuko remembers how light Aang had felt, lying limp on Zuko’s back at the Northern Water Tribe. He’s grown since then, and Zuko wonders if he’d be harder to carry now. 

He’s not sure what he’s feeling as he looks down on the boy he’d hunted so desperately. For once, the conflicting voices in his head are quiet. But he can feel  _ something _ warring inside him. Strong emotion swells in his chest until he feels like he’ll burst, and he doesn’t even have the capacity to identify it. 

He watches Aang’s eyes move restlessly beneath his eyelids. Hears Aang’s sharp inhale. He’s dreaming, Zuko thinks detachedly. 

Aang jerks suddenly and almost falls headfirst out of the bed. Zuko instinctively catches him by the shoulders; they’re too warm, nearly as warm as Zuko is. Fever dreams. Those are always the worst nightmares. And getting shot by Azula? That’s definitely nightmare-worthy. Zuko has been having nightmares about Azula hurting Uncle ever since she shot him. 

He guides Aang back down onto the bed without thinking about it. Aang lets out a tiny moan. Zuko quickly pulls his hands away and looks over at Toph. Still sleeping. Aang whimpers, brow furrowed and hands grasping at nothing. 

What would Sokka do? Sokka had woken Zuko from his nightmare. But they said Aang isn’t waking up. 

Hesitantly, Zuko reaches out a hand and touches Aang’s clammy palm. Aang immediately latches on, clutching Zuko’s hand weakly. His head thrashes against the pillow as he lets out another pained sound. 

Zuko glances over to Toph again, half-worrying she’ll wake and accuse him of hurting Aang, half-hoping she  _ will  _ wake and will know what to do. But her snores just get louder, if anything. 

So Zuko leans in close to Aang, throws caution to the wind and whispers, “It’s okay.” 

Aang continues to twitch and groan. Toph slumbers on. 

“Aang. It’s okay.” Zuko casts around for comforting words.  _ Sokka, where are you? _ “You’re with the Water Tribe. You’re safe.” 

He repeats himself a few more times, and Aang slowly calms down. His breathing begins to smooth out. Finally, Aang lets go of Zuko’s hand, rolls over to his side, and goes still again. 

Zuko finds himself staring at an angry red mark emblazoned on Aang’s back.  _ Burned _ into his back. Azula did that. 

_ Would I have done it? _

The thought shakes him. He stumbles away from Aang’s bed, retreating to a spot against a wall. 

He had been ordered to capture the Avatar, not kill him. Not maim him. No, he decides, even if he could shoot lightning, if he were in Azula’s place under Ba Sing Se—he wouldn’t have shot Aang. Defeated him, maybe; chained him and imprisoned him and dragged him back to the Fire Nation. But not hurt him. 

Right. And what would Father do with Aang if Zuko ever managed to bring him back—serve him tea? Did Father even want the Avatar alive anymore? It’s been three years since Father gave that order. And Azula wouldn’t kill someone Father specifically wanted alive. 

_ Would I kill Aang for Father?  _

Zuko slides down the wall and puts his head in his hands. Uncle said the meaning of his destiny is up to him; maybe he’s asking the wrong question. Maybe he should be asking if he  _ should _ kill Aang. If he  _ could _ . If he  _ wants  _ to. And the answers to those questions will in turn answer whether or not he  _ would _ . 

Whether or not he  _ will _ . 

That thought rings out in his head, reverberating in the silence. 

Wait, silence? How long ago did Toph stop snoring? 

A yawn makes him look up. Toph’s mouth is wide open, her arms stretching over her head; the yawn lasts for an improbably long ten seconds before she finally snaps her jaw shut. “Wow, what a nap!” she says loudly. She turns her head towards Zuko with eerie accuracy. “Anyone there?” 

Zuko knocks twice on the floor. 

Toph tilts her head. “Blue, right? How about two for ‘yes,’ one for ‘no’?” 

He knocks twice again. 

“Cool. So you know Uncle, huh?” 

Two knocks. Zuko’s glad she can’t ask him more probing, open-ended questions right now. He’s feeling oddly raw. Like he’s been scraped over something sharp. 

“He’s a great guy,” Toph says with a smile. “Gave me some good tea and better advice once. Are you as old as he is?” 

Zuko pointedly makes his single knock extra loud. 

She laughs. “I knew that, just wanted to make sure you got the system down.” 

He wishes he could ask how she knew. Then he stops and thinks about it. If Toph’s good enough to “see” with earthbending, if she’s good enough to invent a new form of bending entirely… 

He pulls out his writing materials from Sokka’s bag and walks over to Toph. He taps her hand with the piece of chalk. 

She accepts the chalk, rolling it around with her fingers. “Okay. You have chalk. And?” 

He takes it back and holds it aloft, then gently stamps his foot on the floor in a clumsy imitation of her earthbending moves. She frowns, puzzling out his meaning. 

“Yes, I can bend chalk…” she says slowly. “Not seeing the point here, Blue.” 

He draws a single line down the slate, then holds the slate in front of her. She’s still for a moment, thinking. Then she reaches out a hand and traces the line of chalk with a finger, waiting for an explanation. 

Maybe this will actually work. Zuko quickly writes a simple “hello” in Earth Kingdom script and hands her the slate. 

Toph traces the lines of the characters, frowning as she concentrates on distinguishing the small traces of chalk from the slate. Then something clicks in her head. “Is this writing?” 

Zuko knocks on the closest thing—the back of her chair—twice, pleased that his idea worked. 

But she scowls at him. “Okay, so I can feel the chalk. But I can’t  _ read _ , dumbass. Who would’ve taught me?” 

He slumps. Damn. He’d been so sure it could work. 

She shoves the slate back at him and crosses her arms. “You know I’ve always been blind, right?” 

He hesitates. Did he know that? He knocks once. 

“Oh.” Toph lets up a little on the glower. “Well, I have. So I never learned to read.” 

No one else thought to use her earthbending like this? The average earthbender couldn’t do it, sure, but with a prodigy like Toph surely someone tried it. 

“It’s a good idea,” Toph admits after a minute. She lets out a derisive snort that fails to cover the hurt in her voice. “My parents would certainly have never thought of it. They don’t think I can do  _ anything _ .” 

How is he supposed to say “that’s not true”? Zuko knocks once for lack of a better option. 

“You don’t think so?” Toph interprets. She smiles a little. “I mean, you’re right—I can do anything. I’m the greatest earthbender in the world, after all.” She nods decisively and cracks her knuckles. “Okay, idea guy. Let’s start with the important stuff. How do you write ‘earth’?” 

* * *

Teaching Toph to read is successful in distracting Zuko from the messiness of moral and personal quandaries. They don’t get very far, of course—he just writes whatever she tells him to, which ends up being a random assortment of words rather than a logical progression—but Toph seems to be enjoying herself. And Zuko kind of is, too. Toph’s impressive volume and brazenness are more settling to him than all the honeyed words of court. 

By the time the cabin door swings open, Zuko’s trying to hold in snorts of laughter as Toph requests yet another extremely creative insult. Toph has no such restraint and is giggling as she follows the movements of the chalk. 

Sokka walks through the open door and sidles over to peer at the slate. “What are you guys u—Blue!” he shrieks, snatching the slate away and wiping it with his forearm. “What are you teaching her?!” 

“Don’t ruin my fun, Snoozles,” Toph complains. “This is important information!” 

“What’s going on?” Hakoda asks as he enters. Zuko tries not to stiffen up noticeably. He’s relieved when Uncle comes in too, his hands tucked in his sleeves. Katara sweeps past them all to go check on Aang. 

“Blue’s teaching me how to read!” Toph announces with a grin, punching Zuko in the arm at the same time. He’s come to expect this by now, and he takes it manfully. 

“Really?” Iroh asks. “And how is—ah, I see. The chalk, yes?” 

Sokka frowns, looking down consideringly at the slate in his hands. 

“That’s very creative,” Hakoda says, impressed. 

“It was Blue’s idea,” Toph tells them. 

“Huh.” Sokka eyes the chalk in Zuko’s hand, then raises his eyebrows at Zuko. 

“Brilliant,” Iroh declares, smiling. 

Zuko shuffles his feet, uncomfortable with the attention. He surreptitiously knocks gently on Toph’s chair, just once, but all it gets him is another punch in the arm. Ow. Toph has really consistent aim. 

“Maybe you can use some of that brain power to help us plan,” Hakoda says, taking a seat on the floor. He begins spreading out a map. 

Zuko retrieves the slate from Sokka. “What do you mean?” he writes. Toph steals the slate before he can hand it to Sokka, hovering her fingers over the chalk. 

“What,” she reads aloud, lighting up with recognition. That word had been one of her more practical requests before the lesson had devolved almost entirely into swearing. 

“I’ve spoken with some of my men,” Hakoda answers, “and we’ve decided to try Iroh’s idea.” He looks apprehensive, but his voice is firm. “We’re going to steal a Fire Nation ship.” 

Seriously? Zuko crosses his arms. This is exactly the kind of idea he would expect from himself, but not from  _ Uncle _ . Or Chief Hakoda, though admittedly he knows very little about the man. 

“We have enough men to retreat with our ships and reconvene with another fleet,” Hakoda continues, “while a smaller group uses the cover of the Fire Nation ship to stay close to our goal.” He stabs a finger down at the map. “The capital, and the Fire Lord.” 

Father. 

Zuko tenses. He’s not sure he wants to be here for this. 

“We’ll have to modify the invasion plan—” Hakoda is cut off by Katara’s sharp voice. 

“ _ Sokka’s _ invasion plan,” she says, not turning around from where she’s checking on Aang. 

Hakoda sighs silently. “Yes, Sokka’s plan,” he agrees. “We won’t be able to mount a massive invasion without the Earth King’s armies, but the solar eclipse will still leave the Fire Nation vulnerable.” 

Zuko definitely doesn’t want to be here for this. But he can’t exactly walk out. 

Sokka sits down cross-legged by his father. “Maybe we can pull off a smaller invasion,” he says. “But there’s time to plan all that. First we need a ship so we can sail in Fire Nation waters.” 

“The Fire Nation navy is somewhat depleted at the moment,” Iroh says, eyes flicking to Aang for a second. “Crews are stretched thin; there’s not enough people to man all the ships. That means it will be easier to capture one.” 

Zuko  _ really _ needs to talk to his uncle alone. He needs to understand what Uncle is doing, what he thinks is the right thing to do. He’s not going to abandon Uncle now, after everything, but it’d be nice to know just how treasonous Uncle plans to be—so Zuko can brace himself for being equally traitorous, at least. 

He trusts Uncle to lead him down the right path; he just wants an idea of the direction so he can keep walking even if they get separated, maybe navigate by the stars or moon or something… the metaphor kind of gets away from him here, but whatever. 

He tunes out the conversation and fixes his attention on his uncle. Uncle has his hands in his sleeves and an attentive, pleasant expression on his face, looking for all the world like he’s chatting with a customer at the tea shop instead of planning to steal from the Fire Navy. 

Maybe if he thinks hard enough, Uncle will hear him somehow.  _ Help me, Uncle. I don’t know what to do _ . 

Zuko doesn’t get an answer. 

* * *

With the hubbub of planning, preparing, and eventually dinner, Zuko never gets the chance to pull Uncle aside. Not without coming across as very suspicious; privacy is in short supply on this ship, and the rest of the group seems content to spend all their time crammed into the cabin together. Sokka certainly seems glad to have everyone in his sights. 

Zuko watches Sokka chat with his sister. She’s rolling her eyes, and although Sokka’s keeping a straight face, Zuko can see the light dancing in his eyes. 

Must be nice to have a sibling relationship like that. Azula would do the eyeroll, but she’d follow it up with a vicious verbal jab. Or she would have when she was younger, anyway. Now, she might follow it up with an actual attack, from what he’s seen. 

Lost in his thoughts, Zuko doesn’t notice Sokka coming over until he plops down beside him. 

“Hey!” Sokka greets. “How’re you doing?” 

“Fine,” Zuko writes on his slate. He fumbles for small talk. “How are you?” 

“A lot better,” Sokka says with a smile. “You have no idea how good it is to see Katara and Toph and Aang again. And my dad.” Then he eyes Zuko. “Well, maybe you do, from when we rescued Iroh.” 

Zuko nods. He’s past feeling embarrassed for caring about his uncle. 

“So…” Sokka starts, leaning back on his hands. “What’s your plan?” 

“Plan?” Zuko writes. 

“You know. What are you going to do from here?” Sokka’s eyes flit around the cabin, looking everywhere but at Zuko. 

Oh. “I don’t have a plan,” Zuko scrawls honestly. Sokka isn’t watching for his answer, so he shoves the slate under Sokka’s nose to get him to read it. What’s his problem? 

“Do you ever?” Sokka wonders aloud, smirking when Zuko elbows him in the side. 

Zuko’s smiling too, though no one can tell. He kind of likes Sokka’s teasing. It’s nice, joking around with him. 

“Seriously, though. I think Iroh plans to stay with us, at least for a while,” Sokka says, sobering. “But he kind of implied that it depended on you.” 

_ Me? _ Zuko cocks his head to one side. 

Sokka shrugs. “I don’t know, ask him yourself. I guess he figured you two would stick together.” Sokka raises his eyebrows. “Travel a lot together, huh?” 

Zuko offers a noncommittal shrug and hastily moves on. “I can’t go back to Ba Sing Se,” he writes, trying to give it some thought. “I could go back on the road, I guess.” 

Sokka nods. “Uh huh. Uh huh.  _ Or _ ,” and here he slings an arm over Zuko’s shoulders, “you could stay with us.” He locks eyes with Zuko. “You could help us stop the war.” 

Tapping the chalk against the slate, Zuko doesn’t respond. 

Sokka doesn’t push him, just gives him a slap on the back and stands up. “Think about it. Are you in on capturing this ship?” 

Zuko nods absentmindedly. He hadn’t really listened to the plan, but he’s down for some sneaking any time. Besides, it’s not like taking an unused ship is going to hurt anyone. 

Katara approaches him, looking tired. “I can try to heal you some more now,” she tells him. 

He frowns at her and writes: “Save your strength. I’m fine.” 

That earns him a glare, of an entirely different kind from what Zuko is used to getting from her. Somehow it’s a nicer glare? “You’re  _ not  _ fine. You’re still injured.” 

“And you’re exhausted,” he counters. “It can wait.” 

She frowns, but accepts this without further argument. “I’m going to take a nap, then,” she says. 

But instead of leaving to find a bunk like he expects, she just lays out a spare blanket and curls up right by Aang’s bed. Zuko sees Hakoda give her a worried but fond look. Sokka leans over to say something to his father; they smile at each other, and Hakoda reaches out to ruffle Sokka’s hair. 

Zuko looks away, envy swirling sickeningly in his stomach. 

Home is family, Sokka had told him. And now that he’s back together with his family, Sokka is home. 

Zuko’s back together with Uncle. Does that mean he’s home, too? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love me some Toph & Zuko. Couldn't resist giving Toph more air time. 
> 
> Zuko did some thinking in this chapter, but he didn't reach many decisions. What do you want him to do?


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, the boys run a stealth mission to sneak onto a Fire Nation ship and make a clean getaway. Sokka reaffirms his trust in Blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys we're so close to being done! Only two chapters left after this one. 
> 
> Lots of Toph love on the last chapter - you love to see it 😄

Stealing a Fire Nation ship may be a crazy idea, but Sokka knows that if they pull it off, it’ll be a huge help to them. The power and endurance of a steamship, plus being able to hide right under the Fire Lord’s nose? It’ll be perfect. 

The plan of attack—well, the plan of… stealing?—is pretty simple. Iroh knows where they can find some ships, and all they have to do is find one that’s unmanned or at least under-manned. He’s not sure what they’ll do if they actually have to deal with Fire Nation soldiers. Keep them prisoner? 

Night has fully fallen, and they’ve begun sailing towards land near the port. Sokka glances around the cabin, checking out the preparation. Katara’s sleeping, which he’s glad to see. Iroh is talking to Toph about metal-bending and all the ways it could be used to sabotage a steamship. Dad’s going over the team roster again. 

And Blue is just kind of sitting around, looking at nothing. 

He probably has a lot on his mind. Sokka wonders if it has to do with the question of loyalty that he suspects Blue has been struggling with. 

Sokka’s not stupid; he’s been putting pieces together. The latest being the fact that Blue didn’t answer Sokka’s invitation to help stop the war. There’s a lot of reasons he could hesitate to make that decision, sure, but Sokka just has this feeling… 

He hopes Blue chooses to stay. For one thing, it’d be useful to have another friendly firebender around, especially once Aang wakes up and needs to learn firebending. But practical reasons aside, Sokka likes Blue. The guy has clearly been through a lot and could use a friend. 

“Make sure Blue’s in my group,” Sokka tells his dad. 

“Oh, is he coming?” Hakoda asks, glancing over at where Blue’s slumped against a wall. “He seems a little… out of it.” 

“Yeah, he’s coming. He likes sneaky stuff.” 

“I would never have guessed from the outfit,” Dad says dryly. 

Sokka laughs. “Right?” 

Dad smiles briefly. Then he lowers his voice, leaning in. “So he never takes the mask off? You really don’t know who he is?” 

As if he knows they’re talking about him, Blue stirs and looks around the room. Sokka watches him stand and begin stretching, reminding him of the first morning at the rendezvous point. 

“He never takes it off,” Sokka answers eventually, finally dragging his gaze away from Blue. “Are we ready to go?” 

* * *

A single Water Tribe ship beaches in a dark cove just long enough to drop off some passengers. The dozen or so volunteers quietly trek just inside the shore’s treeline towards the port and its hulking metal ships. 

The ships all look the same to Sokka, besides some external damage. The docks are far from crowded, with plenty of empty spaces where there should have been more ships; it wasn’t only lives that were lost up north that fateful night. 

He reflexively glances up to the sky, but it’s a moonless night. Yue is hiding away and granting them the cover of darkness. He sends a small prayer her way. 

There are soldiers on watch, but it seems to be a pretty token effort. The red of their uniforms makes them easy to spot as they patrol the docks in pairs. Shouldn’t be too difficult to slip past them. 

Sokka signals for everyone to split off into their groups. “Blue and Nelu—you’re with me,” he whispers for the hundredth time. Everyone already knows their own role—but Dad trusted him with this risky mission; he has to do it right. 

Sokka’s just glad Dad was able to convince Katara to stay behind. She needed the rest. Besides, if this went south, they’d need someone to break them out of prison later.  _ Toph _ certainly wasn’t about to sit this one out; she gives him a jaunty wave as she follows her team to prepare for her own objective: sabotage. Sokka hopes she remembers this is supposed to be a stealth mission. 

He knows Blue won’t have any problems being stealthy. He doesn’t know Nelu very well, but he trusts Dad to vet his own men. With the two capable fighters at his back, Sokka heads for the first ship with no lights. 

The pointy gangplank isn’t lowered, but there’s a rope ladder swung over the side. He lets Blue go first, like the last time they snuck onto a Fire Nation ship together—kind of funny that they’re doing it twice in two days. He watches carefully for any signs of pain as Blue climbs, conscious of Katara’s voice asking about “strenuous activity,” but Blue moves without hesitation. 

Sokka turns to wave Nelu up next, only to catch the frown he’s sending Blue’s way. Somehow he doesn’t think Nelu is also worried about Blue’s health. Sokka narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything; mid-mission isn’t really the time to start an argument. He’ll just have to keep an eye out for problems. 

It doesn’t feel right, standing on a Fire Nation ship. The deck is bare and cold, the metal walls hard and unfriendly. Sokka hears his heart pounding in his ears as he waits for skull-faced soldiers to attack from the shadows. 

After nothing moves for a few minutes, the three of them start to prowl around the ship, searching for signs of life. They check the outside first, crouching low to keep out of sight of any patrols on the docks. 

The inside is completely dark. Blue sheathes a sword and lights a small fire in his free hand. Nelu gives him a wary look and starts to say something, but he shuts his mouth when Sokka gives him a glare. 

“Focus on the mission,” Sokka hisses for good measure. He’ll have to give a “some firebenders are good” lecture later. 

Blue’s palmful of fire casts flickering shadows along the cold metal. It’s an eerie experience, sneaking down empty hallways through that orange glow. Forget Fire Nation soldiers; in this unearthly atmosphere, Sokka almost expects a spirit to jump out at them. 

Once they’re certain the ship is deserted, Nelu returns to the deck to give a signal to the others: a warbling bird call that means “we found one.” Meanwhile, Blue leads Sokka to the engine room. 

Blue seems to know what he’s doing, so Sokka just opens hatches, shovels coal as directed, and watches Blue light fires with casual flicks of his hands. He’s glad Nelu isn’t here to see this—it seems the guy has a problem with firebenders. 

Although, to be fair, most of the world has a problem with firebenders. Not many people in the Water Tribe have had the chance to meet someone like Blue, or like General Iroh. That’s going to make it hard to reach a truce in the war, let alone total peace. 

Sokka chews on his lip as he watches Blue fiddle with the height of one of the fires. The sight would have made him very nervous not too long ago. Now, it seems as natural as any bender bending their element. If Blue sticks around, maybe everyone else will get used to his firebending. It might help if Sokka can convince Blue to do that cute little flying flame again… 

Blue waves a hand for his attention. 

“What is it?” Sokka asks, keeping his voice hushed just in case. “Any problems?” 

Thankfully, Blue shakes his head. He shuts an open hatch on one of the tanks and gestures vaguely around the room—it looks like all the tanks are closed back up. Sokka eyes the engines, wanting to know how they work but knowing now is not the time. He’ll have to ask for details later. 

“You know how to keep this thing quiet, right?” Sokka asks anxiously. They’d already gone over this with Iroh, but he’s feeling jumpy. This mission has the potential to go wrong very quickly. 

Blue nods in answer. 

“Okay. So we’re ready to go?” 

Another nod. Not for the first time, Sokka wishes Blue would just talk already; it’d make things easier in the long run. 

“Let’s go see if everyone else has made it.” 

Nelu is keeping watch outside, and there’s a few more familiar faces scattered around the deck. No one talks; they’re all very aware that they’re on Fire Nation land. Well. Fire Nation metal? 

Sokka takes up a position where he has a good view of everyone. He absently notes Blue sitting just behind him. He watches as the other scouts slowly trickle in, counting them carefully. 

He heaves a silent sigh of relief when Toph’s head appears at the side of the ship. One of her teammates is guiding her up the rope ladder, and she makes it onto the deck with only a little trouble. Sokka smiles when Toph immediately flops down, practically hugging the metal of the ship. 

Toph’s team was the last one back, as expected; once a ship was secured, their job was to sneak onto as many other ships as possible to cut wires, dampen fires, and dent metal. With any luck, the Fire Nation will focus on the damage to their ships and forget to count them. 

Sokka does another head count. Everyone’s here, thank the spirits. Did they really pull off this crazy idea? 

Movement catches his eye. One of the lookouts, Raluk, is waving at him from where he’s crouched at the prow. Sokka heads over, careful to stay low. 

“We’ve got a problem,” Raluk murmurs. He jerks his head towards the docks. “It looks like the patrols are starting to board the ships.” 

Sokka swears under his breath. “Does it look like they’re searching for something?” 

“They’re moving slowly,” Raluk says, taking another peek over the side. “No urgency. I don’t think they know we’re here, but they will soon.” 

“Where are they now?” 

“On the second ship over. And I think there’s more further down the docks. I counted four soldiers on the closest one, which isn’t much, but…” 

“But if they raise an alarm, we’re screwed,” Sokka finishes grimly. He glances around the deck. All faces are turned toward him—waiting for orders, he realizes. From him. 

He’s responsible for the success of this mission and the safety of these people. He tries to stay calm under the pressure and wracks his brain for ideas. 

“If they get on this ship, they’ll know we were here as soon as they see the engine room. So we can’t let them on the ship, but we can’t let them see us, either,” he muses aloud. “We need a diversion.” 

Startled by a tap on his shoulder, Sokka whirls around to come face to mask with Blue. He must have followed Sokka across the deck. 

Blue points to his own chest. 

With a sinking feeling, Sokka pretends not to understand. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out,” he says. 

Blue just points more insistently. 

“What are you even going to do?” Sokka hisses, dropping the pretense. He wishes they had brought the writing slate after all, stealth mission be damned. If Blue’s going to do something stupid, Sokka would at least like to know what it is beforehand. 

“You can cause the diversion?” Raluk interjects calmly. At Blue’s nod, he turns to Sokka. “I suggest we give him fifteen minutes, and then we leave.” 

Sokka barely remembers to keep his protests quiet. “What? No—there’s no way. I’m not just going to—definitely not. We don’t leave people behind.” He glares at Raluk, who doesn’t seem fazed. 

Blue taps his shoulder again. He gestures around the deck, at the others waiting in silence, then points out to sea. 

“We  _ will _ get everyone out of here,” Sokka says, transferring his glare to Blue. “You included.” But as much as he hates it, he knows Raluk and Blue are right; he can’t risk the entire group just to avoid putting one person in danger. More danger than they’re already in, anyway. 

“I can go with you,” he says hopefully. 

But Blue shakes his head. And Sokka knows he’s right about that, too. They hadn’t planned a diversion—this will be totally improvised. He has no idea what Blue intends to do, and it’s safest to let him go alone. 

“Fine.” Sokka sighs, the fight in him draining away to leave only worry. He grabs onto Blue’s shoulder firmly, staring into the black eyes of the mask. “Come back,” he orders. 

When Blue nods seriously, Sokka tries to muster up a smile. “And be careful.” 

With that, Blue slinks across the deck to the ladder and slips over the side without a sound. Sokka watches him go, nerves twisting in his stomach. 

Then they wait. Raluk doesn’t say another word, just continues sneaking glances at the docks. Sokka wonders if he’s counting the minutes. 

It feels like a long time and yet no time at all before a bright light flares out of nowhere. Sokka whips his head around to see brilliant bursts of fire coming from the far side of the docks, shooting straight up into the dark sky in a series of long and short pulses. A signal. 

A shout comes from nearby. Sokka carefully peeks over the rail to see several Fire Nation soldiers hurrying off a ship and heading in the direction of the flare. After a few moments, another group of soldiers appears from a different ship and follows quickly. 

They wait for another minute. The signal appears again, burning in the sky even further in the distance. Then Raluk says: “We should prepare to leave.” 

Sokka tries not to glare at him again. He just nods in response and helps Raluk gather everyone together. 

“That fire drew off the patrols that were boarding the ships. This is our chance,” Sokka explains briefly once they’re huddled up. “We’re leaving in… ten minutes, once Blue gets back.” He’s not sure how much time has actually passed, but Raluk doesn’t argue. 

“Wait.” Nelu steps forward. “That flare was from your firebender?” He crosses his arms, scowling. 

_ His _ firebender? “Probably?” Sokka answers. “I don’t actually know if the fire was from him, but he went to cause a diversion.” 

“That wasn’t just random fire,” Nelu says heatedly. “It was obviously a signal—how do we know he isn’t giving us away?” 

“He isn’t!” Sokka insists immediately. “He’s on our side.” 

“Is he?” Nelu scoffs. “He’s Fire Nation.” 

“And he’s on our side,” Sokka repeats, gritting his teeth. 

“Sokka trusts him,” Toph puts in from where she’s still sprawled lazily in a corner. “He’s helped us so far.” 

To Sokka’s surprise, Raluk speaks up too. “Whatever the signal was, it got all the patrols to move away from us. Seems to me like the diversion worked.” 

Nelu is clearly unconvinced, but he backs down at Raluk’s defense. Muttering something under his breath, he continues to scowl at Sokka. 

Sokka decides to ignore him. “Get inside,” he tells the rest of them. “You know your jobs.” He turns his back on Nelu and heads up to take over steering. 

He stands at the ready, fingers tapping anxiously against the wheel. His eyes scan the dimly lit docks. There hasn’t been another signal. Has it been fifteen minutes yet? Where is Blue? Why did he let Blue go alone? 

He feels like he’s sitting on Appa beneath Lake Laogai again. This time, Toph is with him, and Aang and Katara are safe—but Blue is still out there, in danger. And Sokka has to decide if he’s going to leave another friend behind. 

Fuck. He hits his head gently against the wheel, then quickly straightens and checks the deck again. No Blue yet. 

Raluk clears his throat from behind Sokka. 

Sokka’s grip tightens on the wheel. “Yes?” he asks quietly, not moving his gaze. 

“We need to go,” Raluk says not unkindly. “We’re going to lose our chance.” 

Sokka watches his own hand move to the panel before him and begin flicking switches as Iroh had directed. “Come on,” he mutters. “Come on, Blue.” 

Everything is in place; a dial indicates the engines are ready. He rests a hand on the lever that will start them moving. Still he hesitates. 

“Sokka—” Raluk starts. 

Sokka draws in a sharp breath. “He’s here,” he blurts, eyes fixed on the dark figure just climbing over the side of the ship. From here, he can barely make out the blue and white of the mask, but it’s definitely him. He made it. 

The relief rushes through him, and his racing heartbeat pounds in his ears. “He made it,” Sokka says aloud, just so he can hear it. 

Raluk says nothing, leaving Sokka alone now that he’s made sure they’re leaving. 

Sokka’s hand moves almost by itself, tugging at the lever. It’s the moment of truth: time to go. 

They drift away from the dock slowly, leaving no traces behind but another empty space. Sokka is only half paying attention, the other part of his focus fixed on Blue, who is making his way across the deck. Then he shakes himself and drags his gaze back to the water. Blue made it back to the ship safely; now it’s up to Sokka to get them  _ all _ out of here safely. 

He’s amazed at how quiet the ship is at this speed, for such a large machine. He supposes most of the noise is coming from deep inside the ship. Manipulating the controls carefully, he keeps them well away from the other ships as they back away. 

Once he’s sure they’re swallowed up by the darkness, Sokka ramps up the power a little. 

They’re actually doing it. Somehow this crazy plan paid off. A grin spreads over his face. It grows as he feels a tap on his shoulder. 

“Blue!” He whips his head around. 

Blue gives him an awkward wave. 

Sokka lets go of the wheel and throws his arms around Blue. “I am so glad to see you, man,” he says, squeezing tightly. Blue is stiff with surprise, but he gives Sokka a pat on the back after a moment. 

Sokka lets him go to grab hold of the wheel again, still beaming. “We did it!” he enthuses. “We have a ship!” 

Blue nods. Sokka is really looking forward to getting that slate back. Or making Blue talk out loud. Either way. 

“That flare worked like a charm,” Sokka tells him. “Did you do it? Is it a real signal?” 

Another nod. Blue holds out a hand, palm up, and demonstrates a tiny version of the same pattern. 

“You’ll have to tell me what it means when we get back.” Sokka smiles at him, giddy with relief and the success of the mission. “If you don’t mind spilling some military secrets, anyway,” he jokes. 

Blue stares at the floor and doesn’t answer—but then, he doesn’t have anything to write with. 

They reconvene with the Water Tribe ship in no time. Sokka can’t wait to see what this baby can do on full power, but for now he shuts it down. He times it perfectly; they drift slightly with their forward momentum before coming to a stop sidelong the Water Tribe ship. “Now that’s how it’s done!” he crows to Blue, who isn’t looking at him. Oh, well—Sokka can be excited enough for the both of them. 

Sokka hurries out to the deck, Blue trailing behind him. 

Dad and Bato hoist up a wooden gangplank, precariously steep given the height difference between the ships. “Excellent work, everyone,” Dad calls as he scales the plank, crossing to the stolen ship. 

Sokka glows with pride. Once on deck, Dad pulls him in for a hearty slap on the back. “Well done, Sokka!” 

Toph approaches and punches Sokka in the arm for absolutely no reason. “Yeah, that was fun! I got to break so many ships.” 

Dad laughs and pats her back somewhat more lightly. “Good work, Toph. You did well.” He looks over Sokka’s shoulder, still smiling, and adds, “You too, son!” 

Sokka turns to see Blue standing stock still behind him. “Blue was great!” Sokka grins at him. “Couldn’t have done it without him. One Fire Nation ship, courtesy of us.” 

“The Fire Lord won’t know what hit him,” Dad says. 

Blue wobbles. Oh shit. 

Sokka dives forward just in time to prevent Blue’s head from hitting the metal deck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehe


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To steal a phrase many of my wonderful readers are using in the comments: angst coma. Also, Sokka's revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this fic has blown me away. I've written just a few small fics here and there, and when I started this one for the [ATLA Big Bang](https://atla-bigbang.tumblr.com/) I had no idea it would get this long! And then when I started posting, I never expected this level of engagement. Seriously, I'm kind of in shock that my amateur lil fic is amusing people other than me. I am so, so happy and amazed that so many people are enjoying my story (and leaving hilarious and thoughtful and sweet comments!). 🥰 It makes me want to go write another fic! 
> 
> Today we're wrapping up Sokka's perspective; tomorrow is the last chapter and Zuko's final POV. It's the endgame now, folks.

“What happened?” Toph asks shrilly, all her previous bravado gone. 

Sokka reaches for Blue’s wrist to check his pulse. It’s high. “I don’t know, he just collapsed!” 

Then Iroh’s there, pushing past Dad and kneeling at Blue’s side. “Was there a fight?” he asks worriedly, pulling up Blue’s shirt to check his bandages. They’re pristine; no sign of blood. 

“No, nothing!” Sokka insists. “The most strenuous thing we did was climb a ladder! Well… It’s possible he got into a fight while he was causing the diversion, but I don’t know.” He stands, hoisting Blue in his arms once again. “Dad, can you wake Katara?” he asks, already moving to the gangplank. 

“On it,” Dad answers, hurrying ahead. 

Crossing the steep gangplank while carrying Blue is strikingly similar to climbing down Appa’s tail; Sokka wonders how many more times he’ll end up carrying his injured friend to safety. 

Iroh holds open the main cabin door, his face drawn. Katara’s awake; she gestures to the blanket on the floor, where she had probably been sleeping moments ago. “Put him there,” she orders, drawing up water from somewhere. 

She brings the glowing water to Blue’s side, then his chest, frowning to herself. She makes a slower circuit of his entire body. Finally, she covers the hooded crown of his head for a few moments before dropping her water into a bucket. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Sokka presses. 

Katara meets his eyes. “I don’t know,” she says reluctantly. 

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” 

“I mean that he seems fine! His side still needs more healing, and he definitely has a fever, and there’s the remnants of a really bad bruise on his thigh—but other than that, he’s not injured. He’s not even sick.” She wrings her hands together. “It doesn’t make any sense.” 

Iroh lets out a slow breath, his eyes on Blue’s rapidly rising and falling chest. “I suspect this is not a natural sickness,” he says gravely. “But it is a rather private matter.” 

“Private?” Dad asks, frowning. “We can’t help if we don’t know what the problem is.” 

Iroh shakes his head, not looking away from Blue. “Perhaps ‘personal’ is a better word. I believe his injury may be more spiritual than physical.” 

“Spiritual?” Toph says. Sokka hadn’t noticed her come in. He feels a twang of guilt, hoping someone else helped her across the gangplank. “Like a spirit attacked him?” 

“Not exactly.” Iroh looks up at Katara. “I do not think there is much we can do, besides treat the fever.” She bites her lip and quickly summons snow to place around Blue’s body. Sokka thinks he can see steam. 

“We can talk more about this later,” Dad says firmly, clearly as aware as Sokka is that Iroh’s leaving out some details. “For now, we need to move forward with our plan. Katara, Toph, can you stay with Aang and Blue?” 

Katara nods, not even shooting Dad an angry look like she’s been doing lately. Toph just sits down on the floor and grabs hold of Blue’s wrist. 

“Sokka, I need your help with our new ship. And General Iroh, I need yours too.” Dad looks apologetic, but he meets their eyes steadily. 

Iroh frowns at him. “I do not wish to leave him.” 

“I need your knowledge to get the ship moving. I’m sorry, but the longer we sit here with a Fire Nation ship and a Water Tribe ship side by side, the less effective this ruse is going to be. We need to move.” 

Sokka hates it, too, but he knows Dad’s right. They can’t afford to all sit here watching Blue. “Come on,” he says, holding out a hand to help Iroh up. “Katara and Toph will take care of him.” 

Iroh accepts the hand and rises. He stares worriedly at Blue for a moment longer. “He may… be delirious,” he says eventually. “I do not want you to be unprepared.” 

“I can handle a fever,” Katara tells him. “I know they can make people say and do crazy things.” She looks down at Blue and amends: “Well,  _ do _ things, anyway.” 

Iroh doesn’t seem reassured, but he just nods and follows Dad out of the room. Sokka goes, too, leaving behind a single backward glance. 

* * *

They make quick work of moving to the Fire Nation ship. Soon they have the engines stoked, the supplies stowed, and the goodbyes exchanged. Sokka leaves Dad at the helm waving to the departing Water Tribe ship and heads for the bunks. 

He finds Iroh and Katara standing in a hallway, the former with his hands in his sleeves and the latter with her arms crossed. Uh-oh. 

“This is unnecessary,” Katara insists. “It’d make much more sense if I could be with both of them at the same time.” 

“And I appreciate your dedication, Master Katara,” Iroh says. “But I must insist. This is, as I said, a personal matter, and though your skill is undeniable, this is not an injury you can heal.” 

Katara spots Sokka. “You deal with this!” she huffs at him, then promptly turns around and leaves. 

Sokka jerks a thumb towards her retreating back and raises his eyebrows at Iroh. 

“I had Blue put in his own room instead of with Aang.” Iroh sighs. “I really do think it is for the best. I worry that, with this fever…” He hesitates. 

“You think he’ll say something.” 

Iroh stares at him. Then he turns and opens the door behind him. “Come in.” 

Sokka follows him in. Blue is lying on one of two beds in the room, chest bare but for his bandages. His gloves and shoes are gone, too. He’s shining with sweat, despite the snow packed around his body. At least his breathing has evened out somewhat. 

Iroh shuts the door and turns to him, face stony. “Explain.” 

“I’ve heard him talk before,” Sokka says plainly. “When he had a fever from the burn and was having a nightmare.” 

“Ah.” Iroh studies him. After a few moments, he ventures: “Did he say much?” 

“No.” Sokka shakes his head. “Barely a few words.” 

“I see.” Iroh sinks down into a chair by Blue’s bedside. He takes up one of Blue’s limp hands, holding it between his own. Eventually, he speaks again. “You are right. I am concerned that in his delirium, he may say something in front of your friends.” 

“And they don’t know that he can speak,” Sokka says, nodding. He spots a second chair by the other bed and pulls it over to sit next to Iroh. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” he asks quietly. 

If he’s honest with himself, he put all the puzzle pieces together a while ago; he just never stepped back to look at the whole picture. He’s looking at it now, and he doesn’t think whatever he’s feeling is surprise. 

Iroh doesn’t answer him. 

“Iroh,” Sokka says. “The mask is going to have to come off.” 

Iroh begins to protest, but Sokka cuts him off. 

“It’s probably restricting his breathing. And how are you going to get him to drink water? Is he going to keep it on for the rest of his life?” He shakes his head. “Just… I know you don’t want to go against his wishes. But it’s going to happen sooner or later.” Sokka stares down at Blue’s mask, so familiar to him now. “I think this has gone on long enough.” 

Shoulders slumped, Iroh sighs, looking old and very tired. “I fear for his safety,” he admits, meeting Sokka’s eyes. “You do not know… you will not understand.” 

Sokka holds his gaze. “Iroh. I already know.” 

Iroh blinks at him, startled into silence. 

And he does know. Has known for some time, really, even if he hasn’t acknowledged it. 

Sokka reaches out to the mask. He touches the wood briefly, his fingertips gentle against the carved blue cheek, before reaching behind Blue’s head for the ties. Iroh does nothing to stop him. 

Sokka’s heart is pounding. His field of vision narrows to the mask, and his breath catches in his chest in anticipation. In just a few seconds, everything will change. He knows it with a terrible certainty, yet his hands are steady and his thoughts are calm. 

He pulls off the mask. 

“Zuko.” The name slips from him unbidden. 

Sokka was right; he isn’t surprised. 

Iroh moves, leaning forward to cup Zuko’s unscarred cheek with one hand. “My nephew,” he murmurs. 

Sokka stares at the face of the Fire Nation’s prince. 

This is the face of the enemy who chased them to the ends of the earth; who invaded his village and manhandled his Gran Gran; who spat venom and threw fire in his self-righteous fury. The prince with dogged persistence who swam in arctic waters, fought his waterbending sister under the full moon, and faced a blizzard for a chance to capture Aang—and nearly managed it, too. The boy who stood with them against Azula, rail thin and desperate; who collapsed at Iroh’s side as though he were the one dealt a deadly blow; who drove them off with frantic words and a warning blast of flame. 

And somehow, this is also the face of the stranger who helped free Appa from the Dai Li. The ally who took a knife for Sokka and gambled with his own life to hide his identity. The friend who asked Sokka about home and listened to him worry about his family. 

Zuko moves restlessly on his sickbed, his cracked lips mouthing something soundlessly. Iroh slips the hood off Zuko’s head, revealing damp, shaggy hair. He reaches over for a cloth, dips it in a pail of water, and begins to tenderly clean Zuko’s face. Sokka watches in silence, feeling like he’s seeing it happen from far away. 

“You do not seem surprised,” Iroh says. He doesn’t phrase it as a question, but Sokka thinks it is one. 

“I think I’ve suspected for a while,” he admits. He watches Iroh wrap a handful of snow in the cloth and place it on Zuko’s steaming forehead. “I don’t think I wanted to think about it.” 

“And now?” Iroh asks. His voice is deceptively calm. 

Sokka picks his words carefully. “Everything that’s happened has happened. I can’t forget it.” 

Iroh bows his head. 

“I can’t forget any of it. How he hunted Aang, fought us, fought for the Fire Lord.” He pauses. “How he saved Appa and saved my life.” 

Iroh lifts his head again to look at Sokka. “What are you saying?” 

“He’s done bad things.” 

“Yes.” 

“And some good things.” 

“Yes.” 

Sokka sighs. “I don’t know what to think. But the person I’ve come to know, sort of, over the last few days—he’s not like the Prince Zuko I knew. Maybe he’s changed.” 

“Or in the process of changing,” Iroh replies. “I said I did not think this was a natural sickness.” 

“So what do you think it is?” 

“I suspect that his recent actions have been in such conflict with his image of himself that he is now at war within his own mind and body.” Iroh watches his nephew mutter something again. “My nephew is a complicated young man. He has been through much.” 

“We all have,” Sokka says sharply. He gestures to Zuko. “He put us through a lot, you know.” 

“I know.” 

Sokka’s burst of outrage leaves him as quickly as it came. “He told me some of what his childhood was like. The shit he learned about the rest of us.” He snorts humorlessly at a sudden recollection. “He said his dad was ‘kind of mean.’ Understatement, much?” 

Iroh doesn’t smile. “My nephew has always desired his father’s approval and rarely received it. I should never have left him alone with Ozai.” 

Sokka fixes him with a shrewd look. “When he was banished, you went with him.” 

“I did.” 

“Why?” 

Iroh’s face crumples for a second. “I wanted to give him the love and care which he so desperately needed. But by then he had decided such things were weaknesses.” 

Sokka hesitates, troubled by this. “He thinks it’s a weakness to care about other people?” 

“It is what he was taught,” Iroh answers heavily. “He used to be such a kind hearted child, despite everything. But after—after what happened, he would only ever push me away, again and again.” 

“So why did you stay?” 

Iroh reaches for one of Zuko’s hands again. “Because I love him. And I believe my nephew is capable of much more than he has let himself be. I believe he is capable of great good.” 

Zuko stirs, moving his head from side to side. “‘M not tired,” he mumbles. 

Listening for it now, Sokka thinks he can recognize Zuko’s voice. He’s not used to hearing it so quiet, so devoid of anger. 

“Zula,” Zuko rasps. “Don’t—mother!” He sits bolt upright on the bed, eyes flying open. The cloth on his forehead falls to his lap, and his bare chest heaves as his breath comes quickly. 

“Nephew,” Iroh soothes. “You’re alright.” 

Zuko’s eyes are unfocused, darting around the room without seeing anything. “Uncle?” he says, confused. 

“I am here, nephew.” Iroh presses gentle hands down on Zuko’s unresisting shoulders, guiding him to lie back down. “Just rest.” 

“Okay, Uncle,” Zuko says drowsily. His eyes flutter shut and he stills, out like a light. 

“He really cares about you, you know,” Sokka says quietly. 

Iroh smiles at him. “Thank you. He is not very good with words, and he still struggles to show or accept love through actions. But I do know.” 

He smoothes a hand over Zuko’s forehead, pushing back damp bangs. “He likes you, too. I have not seen him so relaxed around anyone in a very long time.” He glances at Sokka. “It was good to see him act like a teenage boy with a friend.” 

Sokka doesn’t know what to say about that. Friends with Prince Zuko? No way. 

But friends with Blue? Maybe. Sokka looks down at the mask that he’s surprised to see he’s still holding. He turns it around and around in his hands. 

They lapse into silence, broken only by the dripping of water when Iroh cleans sweat from Zuko’s burning skin. 

Then the door opens and it all goes to Koh’s lair in a handbasket. 

“I’m here to check on—” Katara sweeps into the room and freezes when she catches sight of the bed. 

“Katara,” Sokka starts, rising from his chair. 

“Get away from him!” she yells, snatching up water from the pail and sinking into a ready stance. 

“Katara, wait!” He holds his hands up placatingly. “Just listen—” 

“What’s going on?” Dad’s voice rings out from the hallway. He steps inside, taking in Katara’s aggressive pose and Sokka’s defensive one in a glance. “Katara, what are you—” he stops, eyes on Zuko. 

“It’s a trap!” Katara snarls. She glares at Iroh. “Was this your idea?” 

“Master Katara,” Iroh starts to say. 

“Let’s just calm down,” Dad says at the same time. 

Jaw clenched, Katara begins to sweep her arms in a waterbending move. Then she jolts backwards, off balance. 

“Everyone hold it!” Toph barks. She stomps to smooth the metal floor back out from where it had tripped Katara. “Katara, don’t attack our allies.” 

“You don’t understand, Toph, it’s Prince Zuko—”

“I  _ know _ .” 

“You do?!” Nearly everyone says incredulously. 

“Since when?” Katara demands, not moving her narrowed gaze from Zuko’s slack face. 

“Since a few hours ago,” Toph says with a nonchalant shrug. “He thought I was asleep. Aang was having a nightmare—”

Katara gasps, the color draining from her face. “We left him in there with Aang, oh spirits—”

“Katara, Aang is  _ fine _ ,” Toph says impatiently. “Zuko didn’t do anything to him. He…” she hesitates. “He talked, and calmed Aang down from the nightmare. That’s all.” 

“How did you know it was him?” Dad asks, his face stern but his tone thoughtful. 

“I recognized his voice from when we met him while fighting Azula,” she says simply. “Plus, it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?” She snorts. “He’s a teenage firebender traveling with Uncle Iroh and doesn’t want to talk or show his face. Um, hello?” 

They digest this. 

“Alright, that is pretty obvious,” Dad admits. “And I haven’t even met him before.” 

Katara sputters. “Well, you didn’t know either!” She whirls on Sokka. “How long have you known? What’d he threaten you with to keep his secret?” 

“I guessed. And he doesn’t know I know.” Sokka glances back at Zuko. He’s begun shivering, even though the snow around him is nearly entirely melted by now. “I don’t think he ever planned for us to find out.” 

“Not until he was already gone, with Aang in his little Fire Nation clutches,” Katara snaps. 

“He could’ve tried to take Aang when everyone was busy earlier,” Toph points out. “Besides, don’t you think this is a little blatant for an infiltration?” 

“It’s not like he showed up at the camp like this,” Sokka adds. “He was freeing Appa from the Dai Li and then just got dragged along with me.” 

Katara glares. “Is no one on my side here?” 

“Well—” Dad starts. 

“I know you aren’t.” She turns on her heel and storms out of the room. 

Sokka winces. “Dad, I don’t know what’s going on, but I think you should go talk to her.” 

Dad sighs. “I should.” He looks around the room, gaze resting on Zuko before returning to Sokka. “Are you going to be okay here?” 

“Yeah, we’re good here, Dad.” 

“Okay. We’ll talk more about this later.” Dad waits until he gets a nod from both Sokka and Iroh before he leaves to follow Katara. 

“Well,” Toph announces. “That was exciting.” She flops down onto the other bed, one bare foot casually dangling down to touch the floor. 

“You really found out and didn’t say anything?” Sokka asks. 

“Yep.” She shrugs, arms behind her head. “Remember Appa’s chains?” 

Sokka thinks back. “You wanted to see what he would do.” 

“Got it in one. And what did he do? He helped Aang through a nightmare, then went and had a freakout by himself on the floor.” She smiles a little. “And then he started teaching a blind girl how to read.” 

“Huh.” 

“How is he, anyway?” 

“Still feverish,” Iroh answers. “His body temperature is climbing. I wish we could get more snow…” he trails off wistfully. 

Sokka grimaces. “Yeah… that might be a tough one. But I’ll talk to her later.” He and Iroh watch as the last of the snow melts, puddling at Zuko’s sides and soaking into the sheets. 

Sokka heaves a long sigh, suddenly tired. “I need some air,” he mutters. 

“I’ll come with,” Toph says, swinging herself off the bed. 

The air in the hallway is like a refreshing autumn breeze. Sokka hadn’t realized how stuffy it was getting in that room. One feverish firebender and it’s basically a sauna. 

“So does this mean you’re cool with Zuko?” Toph asks him bluntly. 

Trust Toph to get straight to the heart of the matter. 

“I don’t know,” Sokka tries to deflect. 

“Well, you’d better figure it out before he wakes up.” 

He sighs. “Okay, fine.” He stops in the middle of the hallway, gathering his thoughts. “It’s just weird,” he says eventually. 

“Duh. Get to the point.” 

“...I was really starting to think of him as a friend,” Sokka admits. “It’s hard to reconcile that with all our bad blood.” 

Toph nods, looking thoughtful. 

“It’s like they’re two different people,” he continues. “Prince Zuko and Blue. But they’re not; they’re the same person.” 

“You know,” Toph says slowly, “I’ve heard before that if you want to see what someone’s really like, you should see what they do when they think no one’s looking.” 

Sokka thinks about this. “So you think Blue is what Zuko’s like when no one’s looking?” 

She shrugs. “Maybe. Or it’s a really good act and he’s playing the long game.” 

“Somehow I don’t think even Zuko is crazy enough to almost die and have to burn himself horribly, just to gain my trust and get into a Water Tribe camp,” Sokka says dryly. 

Toph laughs at that. “You’re probably right, Snoozles. So that means it’s really him. Or at least, it’s who he is now.” 

“He and Iroh have been official traitors for a while now,” Sokka muses. “I bet being on the run from your own nation can change a man.” 

“No kidding.” Toph frowns thoughtfully. “But Uncle said he still wants to help the Fire Nation, just not the Fire Lord. Maybe Zuko’s the same way.” 

“Iroh said Zuko’s loyal to his dad. Like, to a fault, I think.” 

“And you’re not loyal to your dad?” Toph asks pointedly. 

“My dad isn’t invading other nations for his own power and gain!” Sokka hisses, offended. 

“No. But what if he was?” 

“He wouldn’t,” Sokka insists. Why is she talking like this? “My dad’s a good man.” 

“Zuko would probably say the same thing. Or would have.” Toph raises an eyebrow at him. Who taught her to do that? “Look, I just know something about controlling parents and being raised with a buttload of expectations, okay?” She turns away. “And after all that, I still believed my mom wanted to make things up to me, in Ba Sing Se.” 

Sokka impulsively draws her into a hug. “I’m sorry about that, Toph.” 

“It’s okay,” she says bravely with just a bit of roughness to her voice. “Just, sometimes family sucks. But they’re still your family.” 

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Sokka shudders. “Can you imagine your family being Ozai and Azula, though?” 

Toph pulls out of the hug to punch his arm. 

“Ow!”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Sokka,” she says, exasperated. 

“Oh.” He thinks about it again. “Okay, point made.” 

“Good. Now let’s go find  _ your _ family. Maybe Katara’s calmed down by now.” 

They find Dad and Katara on the deck. Katara’s eyes are red-rimmed, but she’s not yelling at Dad anymore, to Sokka’s relief. 

“Okay,” she says to Sokka. “I’m ready to listen.” Which means Sokka has to figure out what he wants to say. 

“I think we should give him a chance to explain,” he says, going with his gut. “He’s sick, and if Iroh’s right, it’s because the good and bad in him are fighting.” 

“Plenty of good in there, I’m sure,” Katara grumbles. 

“He did save my life,” Sokka points out. 

She shrugs begrudgingly. 

“And helped us steal a Fire Nation ship,” Dad muses, hand to his chin. 

“And then he immediately fell over because it was one good act too many?” Katara says, though her tone is more incredulous than scathing. 

“Or one  _ traitorous _ act too many,” Toph shoots back. “Would it be easy for you to betray your tribe?” 

Katara scowls, but she doesn’t argue. She taps her foot anxiously. “I’m worried about Aang,” she confesses. “I don’t want Zuko near him while he’s so vulnerable.” 

“We’ll protect him.” Dad puts a hand on her shoulder. 

“Aang still comes first,” Sokka reassures her. “But having the Fire Nation crown prince on our side? That’d be pretty cool.” 

“You just want another teenage boy around to make dumb jokes with.” 

There’s the annoying little sister he knows and loves. “Hey, I can want both!” he protests. 

“Suuure.” Katara smiles at him. “Aang could use a firebending teacher,” she allows. 

“See? Useful.” Sokka glances around their impromptu meeting. “So are we agreed? We wait and see?” 

Katara nods. Dad does too, saying, “Agreed.” 

“Works for me,” Toph says. “I want to see how many more swear words I can get him to teach me.” She frowns thoughtfully. “It’ll be a lot easier once he can talk to me out loud.” 

Sokka slaps his forehead while Toph cackles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of you who have been commenting for several chapters that Sokka totally knows it's Zuko... yeah, he was just in denial. No longer in denial. Instead... optimistic? Now it's up to Zuko to not fuck up his only chance—that is, _if_ he wants to take that chance.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at the end!! I can hardly believe it. 
> 
> Sorry for posting this chapter so late today, I swear I didn't do it on purpose (I ended up working 4 hours later than usual and came to post as soon as I was free!). Enjoy the final chapter! 
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who gave this story a chance, and thank you for all your amazing commentary and sweet comments. I appreciate you all so much! 🥰 It's been really fun. 
> 
> Huge thank you again to my betas [Wheat](https://burnt-oranges.tumblr.com/), [Aeru](https://aerugonian.tumblr.com/), and [Rowan](https://acornsofthemind.tumblr.com/) (they write too, go check them out!), and to [pikachica](https://pikachica.tumblr.com) for the [Blue Spirit sculpture](https://pikachica.tumblr.com/post/633281256397864964/a-small-charm-i-sculpted-and-painted-for). ❤️

There’s a soft hand on his shoulder and a shadow on his bad side. Zuko whirls around, arms raised in an attack stance—

“Mom?” His good eye widens and he drops his arms. 

She smiles at him. They’re the same height, now, but she looks just like he remembers. 

“Zuko, my love,” she says softly. It’s been so long since he’s heard her voice. 

Zuko wants to ask what she’s doing here. Where she’s been. If she’s alive. He wants to run into her arms and be a child again. 

But he finds he can only say: “I don’t want to play with her, Mom.” 

Mom steps aside, a gentle smile still gracing her face. Azula stands behind her looking just as he’d last seen her in the Earth Kingdom, her eyes calm and glittering. 

“I think it’s a good idea to play with your sister,” Mom tells him. She turns, pulling up her hood, and starts to walk away. 

“Mom! Wait!” Zuko calls out. His feet can’t move in her direction. 

Azula smiles sharply at him then, lightning sparking around her fingertips as she holds her hand out for Zuko. “You are free to choose, brother,” she says. 

Zuko looks away from her, his gaze searching frantically for Mom—but she’s gone. Maybe she had never been there in the first place. 

He takes Azula’s hand. 

They’re in the war room. Azula sinks down onto a cushion before the low table, her posture regal and her eyes uncharacteristically downcast. Generals sit around her, their apprehensive gazes focused on something behind him. 

Zuko turns and faces the flames of the Fire Lord. 

From behind the wall of fire comes another voice he hasn’t heard in years; the voice from his worst nightmare. “I see the weight of your travels has changed you,” Fire Lord Ozai says impassively. 

“I have changed,” Zuko agrees warily. Does Father approve? 

Father approaches. Stray flames cling to the bottom of his robe as he comes to a stop before Zuko, and there’s a trail of scorched stone behind him. 

It’s strange; Zuko doesn’t have to look up very far to meet his father’s eyes. Not like last time, when Father towered over Zuko’s kneeling form. 

“Prince Zuko,” Father says. His tone is nearly as warm as Uncle’s, and it sounds all wrong coming from him. “My son.” 

“I am your son,” Zuko whispers. 

“My loyal son.” 

“Your…” His voice breaks. He can’t say it. 

Zuko looks to Azula. She’s looking back at him with the round face and wide eyes of a toddler. “A princess surrenders with honor,” she whispers to him. 

Surrender? 

“Did you find the Avatar?” Father demands his attention. 

“I did,” Zuko says. 

And just like that, Father’s face softens again. “I am proud of you, my son.” But he’s not looking at Zuko; he’s looking at the table. 

He’s looking at the pale, small body lying there, wrapped in blue blankets. 

Aang? But he’s supposed to be safe with the Water Tribe fleet. Zuko stumbles forward a step. Aang’s body is still, but he’s breathing. 

“Crown Prince Zuko,” Father says, a terrible finality in his voice. “Finish this.” 

“The war will end,” answers a new voice. Sokka’s sitting across from Azula at the table now, one hand reaching out to find Aang’s. He looks up at Zuko, eyes fierce. “You could help us stop the war.” 

“I—” 

“Have you not learned respect?” Father’s voice is hard, echoing off the endless blood red pillars surrounding them. Or are they soldiers? 

“The world needs balance,” Uncle Iroh tells him from behind the bars of a cell. “The world needs the Avatar.” 

“Uncle? I can save you, Uncle, just hold on—” 

“Fight for your honor!” The flames edging Father’s robe are leaping up, flickering hungrily. He raises a fistful of fire, his face twisted with disgust. 

Zuko flinches back. His hands raise to protect his face and his eyes squeeze shut. 

Nothing happens. 

He opens his eyes. Father is barely visible amidst his flames, hand raised but unmoving. Azula cups blue flames in her lap, watching Zuko silently. 

A familiar hand takes his. “We’re not just going to leave you,” Sokka tells him, a small smile on his face. He’s no longer sitting at the table. Zuko looks over to see Katara healing Aang on the bloodstained floor of the war room. Toph is peeling apart Uncle’s prison with ease. 

Uncle steps free and calls to him. “Prince Zuko. Nephew.” His face is so full of love that Zuko has to catch his breath. “Who are you?” 

“I am Zuko.” His words barely make a sound, but they hurt coming out of his throat. “Son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai. Prince of the Fire Nation, and heir to the throne.” All eyes are on him. 

“And what do  _ you _ want?” 

He wants to go home. He wants Mom back. He wants Father’s love. He wants to make Uncle proud. He wants to be a good prince. He’s not sure he can have any of it. 

“I thought it was my honor I wanted,” he rasps, looking directly at the conflagration that is his father, “but really, I was just trying to please you.” Sokka squeezes his hand, lending him courage. “The people of the world hate us. And… we deserve it.” 

_ Do you think we could have been friends? _

“I want to make it right,” Zuko says slowly, testing the words. “I want peace.” 

Darkness descends on the war room. The only light is a blue so bright it’s almost white, glowing from the tattoos on Aang’s unconscious form. 

Zuko walks forward. The light hurts his eyes, growing brighter as he gets closer until it’s burning—he’s burning, yet again. But Sokka’s pulling him forward by the hand and Uncle’s waiting with open arms and all that’s left behind him is his furious, blazing father, so he keeps moving. Takes another step, even as his vision fails. The light, it’s blinding, he can’t—

* * *

“Dampen the lanterns,” a vaguely familiar voice demands coldly. 

The blinding light dims immediately, and he exhales a sigh of relief. His eyes are once again squeezed shut, but the pain is lessening. What’s going on? Is he still in the war room? 

“He might not really be awake yet,” the voice continues flatly. “He may be… dangerous.” 

“I will restrain him if necessary.” That’s Uncle’s voice. He sounds… happy? Worried? It’s difficult to tell. Everything’s confusing. “He does not want to hurt any of you, and he will regret it if he does so in his confusion.” 

“Oh, I’m sure,” the first voice scoffs. 

“Lay off,” a third voice says gently. He knows that voice. That’s Sokka. “He’s still sick.” 

“Maybe this is a normal temperature for a firebender!” 

“I have told you,” Uncle says tiredly, “it is not.” 

There’s silence for a few moments. He uses this time to try and gather himself. He’s not in the war room; the world rocks beneath him. He must be on a ship. They stole a Fire Nation ship, didn’t they? 

“Nephew?” Uncle asks quietly. “Are you with us?” 

Zuko nods slightly. He wants to please his uncle. He may be a little disoriented, a little confused, but he knows where his priorities lie now. “Aang?” is the first word he speaks, nearly choking as his dry throat rebels. 

Uncle shushes him and holds a cup to his lips. Zuko swallows a tiny bit of water, careful not to breathe it in. 

“Aang’s fine.” That’s Sokka again. It’s a relief to hear his voice nearby. “No change, anyway.” 

“I dreamed,” Zuko forces out, desperate to be honest, “I brought him to the Fire Lord.” 

There’s a mild uproar that his woozy brain can’t really interpret, so he just waits for everything to settle. He breathes carefully; the more awake he feels, the more he can feel the ever-present pain in his side. 

Eventually the voices stop talking over each other. “He’d better explain,” hisses the first voice, which he finally identifies as belonging to Katara. More than one voice shushes her. 

“Zuko? It’s Sokka. Can you hear me?” 

He nods. He thinks about opening his eyes, but the light is still so bright… 

“Why’d you bring Aang to the Fire Lord?” Sokka asks. Strangely, he doesn’t sound angry or surprised. No, he sounds… determined. Zuko knows the power of a determined Sokka. 

“I wanted my honor back,” Zuko tells him honestly. The world is still rocking, but it feels a little steadier. “But he can’t give it to me. Or if he can…” he breathes in deeply. “I don’t want it.” 

Sokka’s hand slips into his. 

“You were there,” Zuko mumbles. The world may be steadying, but he feels delirium threatening. Or is that just hope? “You were all there. Toph?” 

“What’s up, Sparky?” 

Sparky? He frowns but doesn’t ask. “You broke Uncle out. Thank you.” 

“Uhh, sure. No problem,” she says with barely a moment’s hesitation. 

“And Katara was healing Aang. He’s going to be fine.” His voice is growing stronger, along with his confidence. His side is still burning, though, and he takes a few seconds just to breathe. To his surprise, Katara says nothing in response. 

“What about me, huh?” Sokka asks quietly but playfully. 

Zuko feels his lips curl in a slight smile. “You helped me walk away,” he says. “You led me away from him.” 

“Who’s him?” another voice asks, deep and steady. Chief Hakoda, he thinks. 

“Ozai,” Zuko breathes. “My father.” He cracks open his eyes. A metal ceiling swims into view through the bright light. 

Turning his head to one side, he sees Uncle at his bedside, unconditional love in his smile. “I am his son. But I’m not him,” Zuko whispers, seeking confirmation. Uncle reaches forward to cup his face in one gentle hand. Zuko smiles weakly. “I am not my father,” he repeats, stronger this time. 

“No,” Uncle agrees, his eyes watering. “You are so much more.” 

At a squeeze of Zuko’s hand, he looks up to meet Sokka’s gaze for the first time without a mask between them. He isn’t wearing his mask, and Sokka is holding his hand. 

He holds Sokka’s gaze as he repeats: “I want to make it right.” 

A smile grows on Sokka’s face. Neither looks away, even though exhaustion is weighing down Zuko’s eyelids. 

“I want to help you stop the war,” Zuko answers Sokka, a little late, marveling in the fact that he  _ means _ it. He really does want to stop the war, rather than win it. 

Because once the war is over, he can rebuild. He can help his people live better lives; work to reduce the suffering his nation has caused; restore peace to the world and honor to his country. Maybe he can even find a home again. 

Sokka smiles down at him, confidence shining in his grin and relief in his eyes. “You’d better,” he says. “After all I did for you?” 

Zuko smiles tentatively back at him, embarrassed and pleased all at once that Sokka can  _ see _ it this time—and yet he’s still smiling back. “I owe you,” Zuko agrees. “But not for this. This is what I want.” 

Sokka nods several times in quick succession. “Good,” he says. “I’m glad you’re with us, Blue.” His smile grows wider. “Zuko.” 

Zuko squeezes his hand around Sokka’s in answer.  _ I’m glad I’m with you, too _ , he thinks. 

Maybe someday he’ll be able to say it aloud. Maybe someday he’ll be able to give voice to the nightmares of his childhood; to his conflicting loyalties and confused sense of morality; to his gratitude for the eye-opening days at the rendezvous point. 

For now, his hand in Sokka’s says enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. Thanks for reading. ❤️ 
> 
> Any interest in a sequel? If yes -- are folks looking for a Zukka endgame? (No promises, just gauging interest! I have no plans for another fic yet. Needed a break after this one. 😄) 
> 
> Hope to see you all around! Come talk to me [ on Tumblr!](https://duck-is-duck.tumblr.com/)


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